


Friends With Existential Benefits

by EmeraldOcean



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Married Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Older Man/Younger Man, One Sided Peter Parker/Tony Stark - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter is 17, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Praise Kink, Protective Wade Wilson, Steve Doesn't Stay With Peggy, Virgin Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Which Leads to More
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldOcean/pseuds/EmeraldOcean
Summary: “We won, Mr. Stark,” Peter had said. But this doesn’t feel like winning.Peter feels like he’s lost everything. Because living in a world without Tony Stark in it feels like living in a world without sunshine.But it’s there, in the dark, where Peter meets Wade – the man who sparks a flame of hope that one day soon the sun will rise again.





	1. That's One I Haven't Been Called Before

“ _You’ve just gotten back from a job – the sixth one this week, might I add. Even God took a break on the seventh day, Wade._ ”

Wade rolls his eyes dramatically, even though the other man can’t see him over the phone. “God was a slacker, Weas. I aspire to be more like the Energizer Bunny. I could totally rock the pink hair and the cool shades. Not so sure about the bass drum though. I need at least one hand to kill people with… and to eat tacos.”

Wade looks down to his lap where there are several of the aforementioned food items – still slightly warm and smelling of spiced meat and fried corn perfection. He unwraps one quickly and takes a big bite. Yum. 

“ _I’ll let you borrow my pink wig if you promise to stay home and not kill anyone tomorrow_ ,” Weasel says flatly. 

“Ha!” Wade exclaims. “Like I don’t have my own pink wig. You’re going to have to bribe me better than that, Weas.” 

Wade finishes the taco in three huge bites – crunching loudly while Weasel sighs obnoxiously in his ear. “ _You’ve been working non-stop since you came back, Wade. It’s like you’re trying to make up for the five years you were gone. You know that’s not necessary, right? No one expects that of you. You know that, right?_ ” 

Appetite suddenly dampened, Wade places the rest of the tacos next to him where he’s sitting on the roof of some tall building in Queens. He hates being reminded of the Snap. 

As someone who up until that point literally couldn’t die, Wade had been very surprised when he had woken up five years later to learn that he had indeed been gone. Of course, he had been even more surprised to immediately learn that the love of his life Vanessa had _not_ been lost in the Snap; and had instead moved on with her life with a new husband and a new baby in the apartment that she and Wade had shared together. 

It was like losing her all over again. But this time, for her sake he had had to pretend to be happy for her. Instead of the truth – which had been that he had wanted to stab her new husband in his handsome, non-scarred face with his katanas, and then shoot him in the dick for good measure. 

But that would have hurt Vanessa. And the very last thing he ever wanted to do ever, was to hurt Vanessa. 

And so he works. 

“Yeah, I know that, Weas. But I’m bored out of my mind, here! I need to keep busy, or else I’m going to end up in the polar bear enclosure again.” He laughs and sighs in remembrance of that particularly memorable afternoon. 

“ _Yeah… nobody wants that,_ ” Weasel remarks, shuddering. He sighs the sigh of the long suffering once more, but eventually relents. “ _Fine. I’ll ask around and see what I can find. But you’ve cleared me out of gold cards this week already, so it might take a while._ ”

“And that’s why I love you the most, Weasel. But don’t tell Dopinder! Daddies are supposed to love all of their children equally.” 

“ _Don’t ever refer to yourself as my daddy again, Wade. It makes me feel funny._ ”

“Like, ‘I think I’m gonna hurl,’ funny? Or more like, ‘It feels really nice when you tickle my balls, Daddy,’ funny?”

“ _Jesus Christ, Wade. This conversation is over. I need to go look for some Purell for my ears now._ ”

“Don’t bother,” Wade cautions him. “I’ve already checked. It doesn’t exist.” 

“ _Figures._ ” 

Wade is sitting near the edge of the roof, and when he looks across the alley to the wall of the building adjacent, he notices that there’s a mural of Iron Man painted on the brick. He’s surprised he hadn’t noticed it sooner, considering how big it is, and how brightly illuminated. 

“ _Well, anyway… I’ll let you know when I find something,_ ” Weasel says, interrupting Wade’s thoughts. 

“Yeah… thanks, Weas. Talk to you later.” 

Weasel hums and the call disconnects, and Wade is left staring at the metal faceplate of Tony Stark’s most iconic creation – splashed up on the wall to act as a shrine, one of many throughout not only the city, but the whole world. _Perhaps even the whole universe!_ Wade thinks to himself. _Who knows?!_

He unwraps his second taco and brings it halfway to his mouth, when a quiet _swish!_ accompanied by a dark blur attracts his attention. 

He watches in awe – mouth hanging open where his mask is halfway rolled up his face – as a small figure in a form-fitting body suit lands gracefully on one knee on the roof’s ledge and slowly pulls off the mask that had completely covered his head. 

_Oh my God! It’s Spidey!!_ Wade stays stock-still – staring wide-eyed at what he can make out of the profile of the young hero. And young he sure is. 

Wade has heard Spiderman’s voice in YouTube videos before, so he knew the guy was probably on the young side, but woah! This kid looks like he could still be in high school. Though, squinting a little in an attempt to see better, Wade notices that the young man’s face – even though objectively beautiful – looks like it’s seen better days. 

The light reflecting from the mural across the alley shines bright enough to see the dark circles under those pretty brown eyes, and _Holy Moses! Are those tears?? Is Spidey crying?!_ Wade wonders. 

Spiderman covers his face with both hands and sobs – shoulders shaking, but his voice muffled in the mask he’s still clutching. 

The stunned disbelief vanishes when Wade watches the boy fold in on himself – making himself so small that Wade wonders ridiculously if he could scoop the hero up and carry him around in his pocket. _Probably not,_ Wade thinks. _But he would definitely fit perfectly in my arms…_

Wade admonishes himself for the thought. The kid is obviously devastated about something. He probably wouldn’t appreciate an armed stranger in an intimidating costume pulling him into an embrace out of nowhere. 

Actually, from what he’s heard about Spidey, the kid probably wouldn’t appreciate any one of those three things. _Except maybe the costume part,_ Wade thinks. The costume is hot.

But the thought of whether Spiderman will appreciate Wade’s costume or not gets filed away for later when the movement of Wade’s hand lowering the taco back down to the wrapper gets Spidey’s attention. 

In the blink of an eye, Wade’s hand (taco and all) is stuck fast to the vent that he’s sitting up against, and the young hero is standing before him, slipping his mask back over his head. 

“Yeah… I don’t think you’re going to be able to un-ring that bell, Sweetie,” Wade says. He’s feeling pretty exposed himself with his mask rolled up like it is, but his words hold true for a reason – Spidey’s seen part of his face… there’s no unseeing it now. 

With his other hand, Wade unsheathes a small knife and slices through the webbing to free himself. But as soon as he does, Spiderman shoots another web that sticks _both_ of his hands (and the taco, _and_ the knife) right back to the vent. 

“Karen?” the spandex-clad hero asks, half-crouched in a defensive stance. 

“Deadpool, actually. Or Wade,” he answers. Spiderman tilts his head like he’s confused by Wade’s response. “But I guess you can call me ‘Karen’ if you like. Never thought of myself as a Karen before,” he continues, shrugging awkwardly with his upper body twisted and his hands restrained. “But who knows? Maybe it’ll fit me perfectly. ‘Hello, my name is Karen, and I’d like to speak to your manager.’ Ooh, no, I don’t know. Not really my style. What do _you_ think, Spidey?”

Spiderman sways where he stands, staggers, and then collapses into a heap at Wade’s feet, which isn’t even in the realm of possibilities that Wade had considered. 

“Was it something I said?”


	2. Tea and Sympathy... Or Something Like That

Tony’s voice is the first thing that Peter hears. “Kid, wake up. It’s time for school.” 

“Mr. Stark?” he asks, rolling over in his bed and rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? I live here, remember?” Peter blinks his eyes open in the bright morning sunshine and takes a look around. He’s still in New York – he can see the city out of the floor-to-ceiling windows – but he’s in a room he’s never seen before. It’s huge and modern – everything screaming expensive and high-tech. It makes him think of the old Stark Tower in Manhattan. “Come on! You’re going to be late. And not that _I_ care about being on time, but _you_ , my little chickadee,” Tony continues with a quick pinch to Peter’s sleep-warm cheek, “threatened to disembowel me if I ever let you be late again after the last time.” 

Peter blushes even hotter at the unusual endearment – cheek still tingling from the teasing touch – and sits up, letting the sheet slip down his naked chest to pool at his waist. Realizing that he’s bare in front of Tony makes him panic and snatch the sheet back up to his armpits as he averts his gaze to the floor. 

Tony chuckles and saunters up to Peter on the bed. He’s self-consciously expecting the man to crack a joke about Peter’s less than manly features – like that he’s on the small side for a guy, or that he has no hair on his chest and that it takes him like a week to even get a hint of stubble on his face. Or any other number of things that Peter doesn’t exactly love about himself. 

But instead of ridicule, Peter receives a callused hand cupping his cheek to direct his gaze upward. And then Mr. Stark says, “No more stalling, Pete. It’s time to get up,” before he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to his forehead. 

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, and when he opens them up again, he’s confused, because Tony’s gone. The room is lit with dim artificial light, and in Tony’s place is a man in a red and black mask – his flat, white eyes oddly expressive as they blink down at him. 

“Spidey?” the man says. “You with me?” 

Peter flinches back and sits up on the couch he’s been sleeping on, eyes widening even more when he realizes that his mask has been removed. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” the man pleads, holding his hands up in defense when Peter makes a move to web him up. Peter pauses, unsure. “There’s no need to start with all the web-slinging again,” he assures him. “You’re safe, here.”

Peter relaxes infinitesimally, but then tenses up again when his brain comes back online and he remembers who he’s talking to. “D… D-D… Deadpool,” he stutters. “M- Mercenary. One h-hundred fifty seven confirmed kills,” Peter blurts impulsively – the stats that Karen had read off to him fresh on his mind.

“Oh, it’s much higher than that now,” Wade brags teasingly. Peter swallows past the lump in his throat. “But don’t worry your pretty little head about that, Spidey. I only kill the really bad guys. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

Peter doesn’t know how he knows it, but he can tell that Deadpool is smiling at him, and for some reason that’s strangely comforting. 

“Where am I?” he asks, taking a moment to look around the room. It’s non-descript – neither upscale, nor run-down. It’s an apartment, he’s almost sure of it, and his spidey-senses are telling him that he’s on an upper floor – higher than eight, but lower than fifteen, probably. “What happened?”

“Well, you’re still in Queens.” That’s good, that’s reassuring. “You’re in my apartment.” Ok, not quite as good, but still not too terrible… yet. “You passed out on that rooftop and I didn’t know what to do with you, so I brought you here.” Yep, that’s that terrible one… Passing out is definitely not a good sign. Especially when it happens in front of a dangerous entity like Deadpool.

“Oh,” Peter says awkwardly. “Um… Thanks, I guess, Mr. Deadpool, sir.” Peter falls back on polite when he’s nervous. But he quickly remembers that he’s unmasked in front of a dangerous criminal (regardless of what the man claims about Peter’s guaranteed safety), so he darts his gaze quickly about his vicinity looking for his mask. 

“’Mr. Deadpool.’ Wow, that’s adorable,” Deadpool says with a chuckle. He seems to guess what Peter is looking for though, because he hands over the Spiderman mask without question. “Ah… sorry about the reveal there, Cutie. But I didn’t know if the mask would restrict your breathing or not, so it seemed best to take it off,” he remarks – the new endearment making Peter feel light headed. Or maybe that’s the lack of food, water, and sleep that was the most likely cause of his fainting spell that’s making him feel light-headed. 

The room spins, and Peter falls back down on the couch again and closes his eyes, fighting off a sudden bought of nausea. 

He must look a bit green about the gills, because Deadpool snatches up a nearby waste basket and shoves it under Peter’s face where it’s hanging over the side of the couch. The feeling passes though, and Peter just rolls over onto his back and tries to wipe away the sheen of sweat that’s suddenly on his forehead. 

This is so humiliating. Peter fervently hopes that Deadpool really does mean him no harm, because he really is in no shape to defend himself. 

“Here… sip on this.” Peter hears the soft, bubbling hiss of carbonation next to his ear, and the faint scent of citric acid tickling his nose. So he opens his eyes again and turns his head slightly to let the man tip some of the cool liquid in his mouth. 

Two more small sips help to further settle his stomach – enough so that he’s able to pull his mask back on over his head to check his vitals. He probably should have worn the Iron Spider suit, but he just couldn’t bring himself to put it on.

“Karen?” he questions.

**Good to have you back, Peter. What can I do for you?**

“Check me out, please,” he asks, hoping it’s simple exhaustion that’s making him feel so awful.

Deadpool speaks over the AI’s response, distracting him. “Oh, believe me,” he assures Peter, “I’ve been checking you out for a while now.” His eyes roam slowly over Peter’s suit-covered body, and he feels his face start to heat up under the mask. “But that’s probably not what you meant, is it?” 

Deadpool sets the glass of soda on the end table by Peter’s head and moves to reach out his gloved hands to Peter’s body. But they just sort of hover there. The man is obviously unsure as to how to proceed, but Peter doesn’t understand why. He’s a military man, a mercenary. Doesn’t he know simple first aid? 

Not that Peter really needs much of that right now, he’s pretty sure. But just in case… “Karen, can you repeat that, please?”

Once again, Peter is distracted from the AI’s response when Deadpool says, “Ok, I think we need to talk about this ‘Karen’ thing, Spidey. It’s not that I don’t like you giving me a nickname – I do! It’s just that-”

Peter slaps a gloved hand over the merc’s masked mouth and keeps it there as he repeats once more, with feeling… “Karen, _AI that lives in my suit_ , would you please repeat your findings on my health?”

The fact that Deadpool talks so much is throwing Peter off a little. Historically, Peter is usually the most talkative person in any given situation… Well, besides Tony, that is. 

_Tony will never speak again,_ a hateful voice says in his head.

Peter winces and feels tears prickle in his eyes at the thought. 

**Sure thing, Peter.**

**Temperature: ninety nine point one degrees Fahrenheit. Blood sugar: sixty. Pulse: One hundred twenty beats per minute. Blood pressure: Eighty eight over fifty seven.**

**Your stress levels are very high, but you are in no immediate danger of death. I recommend that you eat something and sleep for at least six hours to reestablish homeostasis. An intravenous application of saline solution would also be helpful.**

“No immediate danger of death. That’s good,” Peter says faintly. He rests for only a moment then before trying to stand up. 

“Woah, there,” Deadpool exclaims when Peter tries, and fails, to get up off the couch. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve got to go home,” he says. But the room is spinning again, so he’s not sure how he’s going to accomplish that feat. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid.”

“Don’t call me that!” They’re both surprised at Peter’s vehemence, and luckily Deadpool just lets it go like Peter _didn’t_ just verbally rip the man’s head off over a nickname – Especially when this particular nickname is the most innocuous one of the evening. 

_That’s Mr. Stark’s nickname for me,_ he thinks. 

Peter whimpers and yanks the mask off again. He feels like he had when he was being propelled into space, Iron Man hot on his heels as the oxygen levels got lower and lower. “Can’t breathe…” 

Peter claws at his throat and scrunches his eyes shut, and the next thing he knows, his point of view is flipped as Deadpool maneuvers his body into a sitting position – feet on the floor and head between his knees. 

The merc runs a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back and keeps up a steady flow of soft, encouraging words that help to calm Peter’s nerves enough to breathe again. 

“That’s it… There you go…” The tears start falling again, and Peter doesn’t know what comes over him, but he sits up and lunges at Deadpool – tackling him into a hug that’s probably just this side of painful for the man, who squeaks and throws his arms up in the air like Peter is a hot potato that will burn him if he touches. “What’s happening?” the merc asks, slightly panicked. “Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?”

Peter shakes his head, but doesn’t let go. Though Deadpool is still wearing his suit and mask, Peter can tell that he’s much less heavily armed than he had been on the rooftop. All of the holsters and his belt are gone. 

So when Peter crushes closer – his face smooshed into a firm, broad chest – the embrace is warm and comfortable. Especially when the man relaxes into the hold and wraps his long arms around Peter’s much smaller form. 

He’s silent for several minutes while Peter continues to cry as quietly as possible. And Peter appreciates the gentle hand that pets his hair – even if he really wishes that the hand wasn’t gloved. 

After a few minutes of being rocked and petted, Peter settles, eyes slipping closed in exhaustion. Then his stomach rumbles loudly. He fully plans to ignore it – he’s been ignoring his body’s needs for weeks now – but instead he allows himself to be pushed gently back so that Deadpool can get up and fuss over him.

It dawns on Peter how reckless he’s being in trusting this complete stranger – a complete stranger who’s also a known killer – but Peter just can’t find the will to care right now. 

“Drink some more of this and I’ll be right back,” Deadpool says, handing the glass of soda to Peter before disappearing down the hall into what Peter assumes is the kitchen. There’s banging and the sound of plastic crinkling while Peter takes several big gulps of the drink – irritating his sore, dry throat in the process. 

Deadpool is back in a flash, shoving a plate with a sandwich on it under Peter’s nose until he takes it in exchange for the glass, which Deadpool places back down on the table. 

“Eat,” he commands. “After that, you can leave if you really want to – I’ll help you get wherever you want to go if that’s what you decide.” Peter picks up one of the sandwich halves and takes a tentative bite. It’s actually really good – meat and cheese in perfect proportion and not too much bread, just like he likes it. “But to be honest, you kind of look like you’ve gone a few rounds with Truck-o-Saurus, and I’m not sure you should try going anywhere without at least a power nap.” 

Peter swallows down the bite of sandwich in his mouth and reaches out for the glass of soda again, taking a drink in order to stall some more. 

“Like I said before, Spidey… you’re safe here.” And Peter believes him. He’s not sure exactly _why_ he believes him… but he does. 

All of a sudden, Peter realizes that he’s being terribly rude and troublesome. “Thank you for the sandwich, Mr. Deadpool, sir. And the soda. And for everything, really.” Once the words start flowing, it’s difficult to get them to stop. “I’m so sorry for attacking you like that. And for ruining your night. You probably have better things to do on a Saturday night than take care of me.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Deadpool exclaims. “I had a dream _just_ like this last week, Spidey. Cross my heart and hope to die.” One gloved hand crosses over his heart and Deadpool finally sits back down next to Peter on the couch. “The only thing I ask is that you call me Wade. Or Deadpool, if you’d prefer. But drop the ‘Mr.’ and the ‘sir’ stuff. You’re making me feel old.” 

Peter nods and takes another bite of his sandwich as Wade watches.

“Feeling any better?” he asks. Peter shrugs and nods again. The sugar is already hitting his bloodstream and helping him to feel less light-headed and weak. “Want to talk about it?”

The lump of chewed up sandwich almost gets stuck when his throat automatically closes up in fear and he chokes a little. The glass of soda is immediately placed in his hand and guided to his mouth where he takes a sip to clear the obstruction. 

It works and he coughs before taking another sip. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he lies, averting his eyes. 

“Sure, yeah, I totally believe that.” Wade leans sideways on the couch and crosses his legs – the perfect display of ease. “I mean, I know that _I always_ cry and pass out on rooftops in my spare time. Maybe you and I should start a club? What do you think? Meetings every Saturday night? You bring the webs and I’ll bring the tacos?”

Peter scowls but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a sullen bite of his sandwich while Wade rolls his eyes and sighs. 

“Look, ki-” Peter glares. “er… I mean,” Wade tries again. “Look, Spiderman… I’m not going to make you talk about what’s upsetting you. There’s any number of fucked up things going on in the world that could be causing you problems, I’m sure.” _Not to mention the fucked up things going on in other worlds_ , Peter thinks. 

“Buuut,” Wade continues, stretching out the word, “Based on where we met, I think I could probably guess at least part of what’s got you so…” 

He makes a funny hand gesture that’s supposed to represent all of Peter’s deep-seated pain and erratic behavior, but he doesn’t actually say Tony’s name, for which Peter is pitifully grateful. It’s bad enough that Peter sees images of the man everywhere he goes. The last thing he needs right now is to hear his name spoken a single time more. But he’s going to have to say something if he doesn’t want to make this conversation even more awkward and uncomfortable. 

“I miss him,” he says weakly. Wade takes the empty plate out of his unresisting hand and Peter tries to focus on the muffled _clunk_ that it makes when it hits the wood of the end table, instead of the aching hole in his chest that he feels when he says those words. 

Wade remains uncharacteristically quiet then. But actions definitely speak louder than words when he tugs Peter unresisting back into his arms and simply holds him. 

And Peter finds that being held by Wade is so comforting that he barely even cries once he’s there. Only a couple of helpless tears spill down his cheeks to soak into the deep red of Wade’s suit and he sighs – eyelids slipping shut as his senses soak up the rich smell of leather and the steady beat of the man’s very strong, very _alive_ heart. 

Sometime later, Peter is mostly asleep when he shivers with cold. But he only slips further into unconsciousness when he feels the warmth of a blanket settle over his back and a soft, “Go to sleep, Baby Boy. It will all be ok,” whispered in his ear. 

Peter wants to ask Wade if he’s sure, but perhaps in his dreams it doesn’t matter. Perhaps in his dreams the answer can only ever be yes.


	3. Better Than Pancakes

It could be one of several things that wakes Peter the following morning. 

It could be the phone buzzing in his pocket – probably another call from Aunt May asking why he didn’t come home again last night. Or maybe Ned, trying to get him to agree to hang out finally after weeks of Peter’s increasingly implausible excuses as to why he can’t.

Or perhaps it’s the strong smell of food and the familiar noises of quiet domesticity coming from the kitchen that catches his attention and drags him back to consciousness.

Even the pressure on his bladder would be a good explanation for his wakeful state.

But it’s actually none of those things.

The real reason he wakes is that sometime while Peter slept, Wade had piled what seems like ten thousand blankets on top of him, and now Peter fears that he may quite possibly die of heat stroke.

After a short tussle with the veritable mountain of textiles, Peter eventually emerges victorious; though he feels disgusting – hot and sweaty, and covered in a layer of grime after too many days of not showering. 

He considers just sneaking out the window without a word – Deadpool may have seen his face, but he doesn’t know his name, and it would be a simple thing to just jump out and swing away. 

But Peter can’t do it. 

Anything could have happened to him passed out on a rooftop like that. But instead, Wade had taken him in and taken such good care of him. He owes the man a thank you at the very least. 

On his way down the hall, Peter slips silently into the bathroom to ease his discomfort and splash some cold water on his face, and when he exits the room, he can hear Wade’s voice speaking in the kitchen. 

Peter pauses to listen – figuring it’s best to make sure he knows what he’s walking into before he actually walks into it. 

“I know what I said last night, Weas. But now I’m saying something different.”

Wade pauses, but Peter doesn’t hear anyone respond. He can almost make out a really soft whispering noise, and guesses that Wade is speaking to someone over the phone. In top shape Peter could normally make out both sides of a phone conversation at this distance. But Peter isn’t anywhere near top shape, and he’s found that some of his enhanced abilities don’t work as well when he lets his body get too run down for too long. 

“Yeah, well, I’m a fickle pickle, my friend. So keep my name off the roster for at least the next week, and I’m staying in the city indefinitely.” He pauses and Peter hears the sound of a spatula scraping against a pan. “No, Weas, I mean indefinitely. Only local stuff until I say otherwise.” 

Peter creeps closer to the doorway and pauses another moment to decide whether he should slip his mask back on or not. Anonymity is a moot point, but putting a physical barrier up like that would make a statement that says Peter doesn’t want to get any closer to the merc than he already has. 

And is that really what he wants?

“I know you’re there, Spidey,” he hears Wade say. “Why don’t you come in and have some breakfast?”

Without thinking too much about it, Peter walks into the room with his mask still in hand. Wade is dressed down in comfortable-looking loungewear – sweatpants and t-shirt with sneakers and a zip-up hoodie with the hood pulled up. But he’s also wearing the gloves and mask of his Deadpool suit. 

“So we’re on the same page?” Wade says into the cell phone in his hand. “Wonderful. Perfect. And again… This is why you’re Daddy’s favorite.” Whatever the other person says in response causes Wade to laugh loud and boisterously, and then he hangs up and slips the phone into his pocket before turning to look at Peter. “Now before you say anything,” Wade begins. “I’d feel much better if you sit down and have something to eat.” Peter hesitates, shifting from foot to foot while he weighs his options. 

Eventually the mouthwatering scent of the food piled high on the small kitchen table makes the decision for him and he takes a seat. He actually feels hungry – which is unusual for Peter these days – and the mounds of scrambled eggs and bacon look really, really good.

A plate with three slices of French toast gets plunked down in front of him, and then Wade fills an empty glass with orange juice and hands it to him with a flourish. “Eat! Drink!” A glass bottle of syrup shaped like a maple leaf joins the spread. “I’d also tell you to be merry, but I’m guessing that you’re not feeling quite up to that yet.”

“I’m feeling better, actually,” Peter tells him. It’s true, even if ‘better’ is a relative term. “And this all looks really good. Are you sure you don’t mind? You’ve already done so much for me.”

“Absolutely positive, my sweet little cinnamon roll. Ooh! I should have made cinnamon rolls!” He sits down next to Peter and starts piling eggs and bacon on the plate with the French toast. “And I know what you’re thinking… Why didn’t he make pancakes? He _always_ makes pancakes in these stories! But honestly Spidey, you look like you could use a little extra protein in your life, so I made French toast instead.”

Peter brushes off the comment about pancakes. He’s not sure exactly what Wade means by ‘stories,’ and he honestly doesn’t care enough to enquire further. The first salty, savory bite of bacon makes his eyes flutter shut in bliss, and Peter digs into his food with such a single-minded ferocity that Wade must think he’s been living on the streets or something.

“Sorry,” Peter pants, breathless after drinking half the glass of orange juice in one go. “I’m usually not so…”

“Ravenous?” Wade fills in. “Voracious? Absolutely _insatiable_?” Peter gulps another sip of juice. 

“Wretched,” Peter admits, eyes downcast. He continues to shovel food in his face – He’s quickly starting to feel full, but he doesn’t want to waste anything that Wade put on his plate. 

“Well that’s good to hear, Spidey. ‘Cause I still haven’t ruled out calling Child Protective Services to come and put you in a nice home for wayward arachnids.”

“I’m not a child,” Peter pouts in an extremely childlike manner. 

“Oh yeah?” Wade says. “Tell that to your face, Baby Boy.” Peter scowls. “Just how old are you anyway?”

He sounds only mildly curious, but Peter hears the way Wade’s heartbeat speeds up when he asks the question. 

“I was born twenty two years ago,” Peter answers simply. There’s no fooling Wade though…

“And I’m assuming by the careful way in which you worded that answer that you probably spent five of those years as the world’s most adorable dust bunny, so who are you trying to fool here?” 

Peter stays quiet and Wade doesn’t push further. And it suddenly dawns on Peter that his own plate is practically empty, yet Wade has yet to eat a single morsel. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks curiously, looking pointedly at the remaining food on the table. 

“Well, here’s the thing…” Wade shifts in his seat, looking suddenly very uncomfortable. “You haven’t mentioned it, but I’m sure it didn’t pass your notice last night that it isn’t all sunshine and lollipops under this thing.” He points to his own face and the mask covering it, and Peter knows that he’s referring to the strangely mottled quality of his complexion. “It’s not pretty, is what I’m saying, Spidey. Figured it would be rude to make you lose your appetite before you even get a chance to eat.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Peter tells him. The scientist in Peter wants to ask Wade a thousand questions. Things like whether he was born like that, and if not, whether it was illness or injury that caused it. Questions like, ‘Does it hurt?’ or ‘How widespread is it?’ or even, ‘Can I touch it?’ But he reminds himself that asking things like that would be rude, and so he tries to be reassuring without being invasive. “Really, it doesn’t. Please don’t go hungry on my account.” Wait, that didn’t quite come out quite right. “Because it’s fine,” he elaborates. “Totally fine, as a matter of fact. Seriously, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

Wade takes pity on him and lowers the hood of his sweatshirt before slowly rolling the mask up and off his head. The sight is just a little bit jarring, but Peter quickly gets over it. The scarring may be extensive, and Wade may not have any hair, but he’s still a very handsome man with white teeth, beautiful eyes, and a very pleasing bone structure. It surely isn’t a hardship to look at him. 

“You…uh… you’re…”

“Hideous? Terrifying? Freddy Krueger’s less handsome twin?” 

“Hot.”

Oh crap. That’s not what Peter had meant to say. His obvious embarrassment seems to amuse Wade though, because he throws his head back and laughs – and the sudden smile and mischievous twinkle in the man’s eyes just makes Peter feel even more ridiculous. But at least Wade doesn’t appear to be upset by his response. He just keeps chuckling warmly as he fills his own plate with food. 

“So,” Wade begins through a mouthful of breakfast. “You don’t take very good care of yourself and you have terrible taste in men. Anything else you want to tell me about yourself, Spidey?”

Peter fidgets with the mask in his lap as he considers just how much more he should divulge about himself. Probably not much, if he’s being honest. Eventually he settles on flippant and says, “I really need a shower.” It’s true, but doesn’t tell Wade anything that Peter’s sure the man isn’t already perfectly aware of. 

Wade smiles a little sadly, but continues eating. “In that case,” he says. “You’re welcome to use mine if you like.” Wade looks as if he’s absolutely sure that Peter won’t take him up on his offer, but actually…

“That would be great. Thanks,” Peter says, standing up. 

Wade hurries to stand as well. “Oh, ok. Really?” Peter nods and shrugs one shoulder. 

“Yeah, I mean, it would be great to be able to change my clothes, but since I don’t have anything else to wear, a shower will definitely help.”

Peter follows Wade back to a different bathroom than the one he had visited before – this one located inside what must be Wade’s bedroom, and then waits patiently through the man’s flustered explanation of where everything is located in the room. 

“… and there’s towels in this cabinet here…” He hands one to Peter. “Sorry I don’t have any shampoo…” He continues to catalogue everything that might be of any possible use to Peter, and then awkwardly makes his retreat, shutting the door gently behind him.

Peter zones out in the shower. He tries not to think about anything in particular while he washes himself and then stands blinking underneath the hot spray. He realizes that he’s probably taken too long when he’s finally out and drying off and a soft knock sounds at the door. “Spidey?” Wade says on the other side.

It would take too long to try to slip into his suit while he’s still wet, so he simply wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to see what Wade wants.

“Uh…” Wade looks frozen like a deer in the headlights, clutching a pile of fabric in his hands. “You uh… You said you wanted a change of clothes, so here’s uh…” His dark eyes slip down to drink in the sight of Peter’s naked torso, and he interrupts his own words. “How old did you say you were again?” 

It’s reckless, Peter knows, but Wade is looking at him like no one’s ever looked at him before, and so before he can lose his nerve, Peter says, “Old enough,” and reaches up on the tips of his toes to grab Wade around the neck and drag him into a kiss.

Wade drops the clothes and kisses him back – completely enveloping Peter’s much smaller body in his hugely muscled arms. 

The sudden rush of hormones and adrenaline is intense. Wade’s hands (which are now missing the gloves) skim down Peter’s back until they land on his ass, and Peter jumps up and wraps his legs around Wade’s waist.

“Mmpf… Wait… Spidey, wait…” Wade props Peter up against the wall and puts some distance between their upper bodies. “Just… hold on a second.”

“What? Why?” Peter asks, breathless. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Definitely,” Peter responds without hesitation, feeling bold. He thinks that there’s a possibility that he’s going to regret this later, but if he’s learned one thing since he woke up on Titan, it’s to take advantage of any opportunity, because you may never get the chance again. 

Wade hesitates for just a moment longer. “Well, ok then,” he says finally. “I guess we’re doing this.”

Peter spares a moment to think, _I barely know this person_ , but it’s not enough to make him want to stop. Not nearly enough.

It’s been so long since he’s felt good that Peter aggressively pushes away any thoughts of Tony and Thanos, Titan and the Snap, and every other thing that’s been weighing so heavily on him for the past month and just lets go – giving himself over fully to the physical sensations coursing through his body. 

The feel of Wade’s lips and hands is exhilarating. It causes a swooping sensation in Peter’s gut that’s almost similar to the pure, unbridled joy of swinging through the city in the Spiderman suit. 

“I can’t… believe… this is happening,” Wade says between hungry kisses that he trails down Peter’s throat. “You are like, _stupid_ hot, Baby Boy.”

Peter clunks his head back against the wall and moans, feeling his cock twitch at Wade’s choice of words. He doesn’t know whether it’s the compliment or the nickname that gets to him the most – He only knows that he wants to hear more of both.

“Maybe we should…” Oh God, that’s Wade’s hand slipping underneath the towel to grope his ass. “… the bed?” Peter suggests.

Wade pulls Peter closer and spins, depositing him onto the bed on his back. The towel clinging valiantly to his hips finally falls loose, and Peter hopes that the heat he’s feeling in his face doesn’t look quite as obvious as it feels when he lets the towel slide down to reveal everything.

“Hot damn, Spidey! You’re absolutely scrumptious.” Wade goes for the zip of his hoodie but then halts, looking uncertain. “Uh… Before we go any further, I feel like I should warn you that this butterface situation isn’t exclusive to my face.” 

Which Peter already knows, obviously, because Wade’s whole head and hands are covered in scar tissue. And Peter’s a smart boy. The logical inference is that the scarring is probably quite extensive if two points of his body – so far away from each other – are both similarly affected. 

“It’s the same sort of nightmare from top to bottom, and I’ll understand if you decide to change your mind and le-”

Peter cuts him off by practically throwing himself at the man – kneeling up to pull Wade down for a kiss that’s probably more enthusiasm than skill, but effective nonetheless. 

“You have no idea what I want to do to you,” Wade rasps in his ear. 

And honestly, Peter really doesn’t know. He’s never even kissed someone before this, much less gotten naked with the intent of having some sort of sex, up to and including actual penetration. Peter has no idea what Wade wants – doesn’t even know exactly what he wants himself. 

“Do whatever you want,” Peter hears himself say. 

Wade groans like he’s pained and shoves Peter back down onto the bed, then proceeds to strip out of all his clothes before joining him. 

“Where do I even start?” Wade asks rhetorically. Turns out, he starts at Peter’s mouth – lowering himself down to kiss Peter breathless before moving on to his jaw and neck. “ _Spidey_ ,” he moans. “Spidey, Spidey, _Spidey…_ ”

“It’s Peter…”

Wade’s head pops back up to look at him, confusion evident on his face. “What?” 

“My name,” he clarifies. “It’s Peter.” 

His admission is met with an extremely bright smile. “Petey Pie!” Wade exclaims. “That’s a great name!”

“Um… thank you- _oh my God_ , Wade!” Wade’s mouth clamps down on Peter’s nipple and sucks hard – teeth tenderly nibbling as his hand bestows similar attention to the other side. Peter had no idea that could feel so good.

“That’s it, Baby… You moan so pretty, Peter. Let me hear you moan for me.” 

“ _Wade…_ ” Peter’s heart is beating out of his chest and he can feel himself leaking. He’s not sure how long he’s going to last once something actually comes in contact with his dick, but he’s enjoying every second of it.

“What do you want, Peter?” Wade asks, moving to suck a hickey onto his quivering abs. He leans up a little to admire his work and seems dissatisfied with the result. The mark’s not very dark because Peter’s mutation makes him much more invulnerable to harm than the average human. And it will heal within a day at the most, probably. 

In fact – the mark is probably only even possible because of Peter’s long-term neglect of himself. But regardless of all that, Peter absolutely loves it. It’s tangible proof that somebody wants him – wants him enough to lay a claim, even if it is in such a small way.

“Hm?” Wade noses his way even lower – bypassing Peter’s cock to end up at his thighs, which he pushes farther apart while holding some extremely smoldering eye-contact. “Do you want my mouth?”

He does. Holy shit, does he ever. So he nods shakily and Wade proceeds to give Peter the best blow job that’s ever existed – he’s absolutely sure of it. 

“Oh God, oh shit, oh holy motherfu- Wade!” Wow! _Why don’t people just do this all the time?!_ Peter asks himself. He wants to hold Wade’s head and thrust wildly into the wet heat of his mouth, but Peter is worried about accidentally using too much strength and hurting the man, so he balls his fists into the bedsheets and focuses on keeping his hips as still as possible.

Eventually the urge to move gets to be too much to resist, and so Peter coaxes Wade off and onto his back – allowing Peter the room to flip himself up and over until he’s straddling Wade’s hips. 

“Is this ok?” he asks, rolling his hips experimentally against Wade. The resulting feel is electric, and when Peter looks down to get a good look at what Wade’s working with, his mouth drops open in surprise at what he sees. 

Now, Peter’s never been unhappy with the size of his own equipment, but it’s obvious looking at Wade, that Peter himself is maybe on the small size. “Like what you see?” Wade asks with a smirk. 

It’s not abnormally large, Peter thinks, but it is proportional to Wade’s body size – which is to say, quite large. “Uh huh,” Peter agrees, nodding in agreement. 

Wade’s smile turns tender, and then he leans up to wrap a hand around Peter’s back and pull him down into a kiss – using his other hand to grasp Peter’s hip and guide him into a rocking rhythm.

“There you go, Baby,” Wade says lowly, voice taking on a gravelly quality. “Just like that… You’re doing so well.” 

Peter whimpers and presses his forehead down against Wade’s broad shoulder. Using only one hand to prop himself up, Peter uses the other to feel his way all over Wade’s skin, and it actually feels really nice. 

Wade may be scarred all over his body, but the scarring is as healed as it’s ever going to get, so it’s silky soft, even though it’s sort of bumpy too. 

And Peter is getting really close. He’s quickly speeding up their steady rhythm, but there’s something not quite… “I-I can’t…” he whines. “It’s not… I need…” He’s not sure what he needs, but apparently Wade knows, because he reaches over to root through his nightstand drawer and comes back with a bottle of lube which he uses to slick up his hand.

That hand then wraps around them both and Peter is gone. He pants breathlessly as he thrusts – spurred on even more by the words coming out of Wade’s mouth. 

“Is that what you need, Petey Baby? Huh? Nice and wet for that pretty cock of yours?” _So wet_ , Peter thinks. And so tight in the firm grip of Wade’s huge hand. “Gonna come for me, Pretty? Come on… Come for me, Baby Boy.” 

“ _Oh God…_ ” Peter shudders through his release – held firm in Wade’s embrace as he finishes them both off. 

The afterglow is a beautiful place, Peter quickly realizes. His body tingles as his cock twitches with the aftershocks, and his mind is blissfully blank – brain soaked in happy hormones that make him smile and flutter his eyes shut. 

And then suddenly the little hairs on his forearms stand on end and he whips his head towards the open bedroom door where he can hear the sound of a key unlocking the main entryway.

“Wade?” he hears a woman shout, out of view, but not for long.

“Are you _married_?!” Peter grabs his discarded towel and quickly wraps it back around his waist as he stands. 

“What?! No! Of course not!” Wade wipes himself off with the corner of his sheet and scrambles to find something to throw on. He ends up pulling his sweatpants on and shouting, “Don’t come back here, Mama!” just before a woman rounds the corner and stops dead on the threshold, eyes wide with surprise. 

She’s obviously not Wade’s mother – she’s way too young, not to mention she’s a person of color.

“Woah! Sorry,” she says, relaxing only slightly when she sees that they’re at least somewhat decent. “You weren’t answering your phone and Weas was worried.”

Wade sighs noisily and rolls his eyes. “Tell the mother hen that this chick has flown the coop.” 

“Yeah… chickens don’t really fly…” she says lazily. “And when they do, they don’t fly far.” She’s looking at Peter though – who blushes and lowers his gaze, praying to anyone who’ll listen that he doesn’t have any obvious splashes of come visible on his naked torso. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is… uuuh… This is…” Wade looks to him then, obviously unsure what Peter wants him to tell her.

“I’m Peter,” he says, hoping that will be enough information to satisfy her curiosity. 

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims. “Domino – Peter. Peter – Domino. Now, you can go back to Sister Margaret’s and tell Weasel that I’m cutting the apron strings, and I’m totally fine, and he doesn’t have to worry. Kay?”

She looks extremely dubious about his plan, and Peter is getting more uncomfortable by the second. The post-orgasm euphoria is gone and he’s starting to consider second guessing his life choices, so he figures that it’s probably best for him to get out of his current situation. 

“I should probably go,” he says uncertainly. 

“No!” Wade says fiercely. “Peter – you stay. Domino was _just leaving_.”

He considers it. His time with Wade this past twelve hours has been exactly what he needed, but he’ll have to face reality at some point, and that point may as well be now.

“No, really,” he says definitively. “My aunt is probably worried because I didn’t come home last night. I shouldn’t have kept her waiting so long.” 

“Oh… ok.” Wade looks disappointed, but bends down and collects the pile of clothes that he had offered to Peter earlier. “Sorry about the pants,” he says lowly. “They’re the only thing I had that might even come close to fitting you. And besides,” he adds with a crooked half-smile. “I truly believe that there should be truth in advertising.”

He shoos Domino into the hall and shuts the bedroom door, and Peter’s confused by his words until he gets a good look at the pink sweat pants that Wade had given him. They say ‘juicy’ on the ass in silver glitter, and Peter rolls his eyes even as he huffs out a small laugh. It’s going to be very embarrassing to walk home in them, but he can’t help focus on the implied compliment. 

It makes him feel warmth settle comfortably in his chest – patching up (at least temporarily) the gaping hole that he’s become so familiar with recently. 

After taking a couple minutes to clean himself up, he gets dressed with the Spiderman suit under his borrowed clothes. The light blue button down shirt is obviously Wade’s – it’s huge on Peter, and looks even more ridiculous than the pants, but at least he can button it at the cuffs and collar so that his suit won’t be visible underneath.

He stuffs the mask and gloves up his sleeves because the damn pants, while comfortable, don’t have any pockets. And then he sighs when he realizes that he doesn’t have anything to put on to cover the feet of his Spidey suit. He’s just going to have to cross his fingers and hope no one looks down at his feet on his way home.

Raised voices sound from the other room when Peter approaches the closed bedroom door, and he halts for a moment to listen – even though he knows that he probably shouldn’t.

“ _Jesus, Wade_ ,” Domino says. “ _I know you’re taking this Vanessa thing hard, but seriously… what the hell?!_ ”

“ _This has nothing to do with Vanessa,_ Wade argues. Peter thinks about the ‘juicy’ sweatpants and wonders who they belonged to. 

“ _Please!_ ” she says, raising her voice. “ _You’re rebounding with some twink that can’t even be old enough to drink. And you say that it has nothing to do with coming back after five years and finding out that Vanessa had moved on while you were gone? I don’t believe you._ ”

Peter doesn’t stick around to hear any more. He’s suddenly aware that he isn’t the only person in the world who’s dealing with the fallout of the Reverse Snap – which is something that he wouldn’t have had to realize if he wasn’t so selfish and egotistical. 

But now is not the time for deep conversations, so he finds an old receipt and a pen on the nightstand and writes a quick note to Wade before sneaking out the bedroom window and down the fire escape. 

It’s actually a very quick walk home – Wade only lives a few blocks away from Peter – and he’s lucky in that he’s pretty sure no one noticed the Spiderman suit covering his feet. The only people who even bothered to notice him were way too busy staring at the rest of his unusual outfit to bother with what he had on his feet. 

He considers scaling the wall and sneaking in through his bedroom window, but he knows that he’s going to have to face Aunt May sooner or later, so he might as well get it over and done with now. 

“Peter!” He expects to be shouted at as soon as he shuts the apartment’s front door, but what he isn’t counting on is that the voice belongs not to his aunt, but to little Morgan Stark – Tony’s daughter, who’s the spitting image of her late father. 

She runs at him excitedly and throws her tiny arms out to hug Peter’s thighs. When he looks up he doesn’t see just Pepper and Aunt May – he also sees Happy and Colonel Rhodes and a woman in a sharp pantsuit that Peter’s never seen before. 

“Uh… Hey, everyone,” he says nervously. He has no idea why they’re all there, and there’s nothing he can do about how he looks at the moment. But he fervently hopes that he at least doesn’t noticeably smell like sex. “What’s going on?”

Morgan is the first to answer, and Peter is still trying to figure out why she seems so excited to see him when she says, “We’ve been waiting for you for for _ever_ , Peter!” Her dark eyes lock onto his gaze – so much like Tony’s – and she smiles brightly. “You’re going to come live with us now! Daddy said so! Come on!” She grabs Peter’s hand and starts dragging him down the hall toward his bedroom. “I’ll help you pack!”


	4. Everything Including the Kitchen Sink

Peter lets himself be led to his room by the diminutive force of nature, and he doesn’t even say a word while she dumps the notebooks out of his school bag and starts shoving in some Legos and Star Wars figurines. 

She moves on to rooting around through his clothes, but she doesn’t actually put any of them in the bag. “Where’s your suit?” she finally asks. 

Peter grabs the garment bag which holds the suit he wore to Tony’s funeral off a nearby hook and offers it up. Morgan takes it with some difficulty (it’s bigger than she is), but after looking inside, she rolls her eyes and makes a face so reminiscent of Tony that it makes Peter’s heart clench. 

“No, silly,” she says, sounding like Peter’s the small child in this scenario. “I mean your _Spiderman_ suit, duh!”

Peter has yet to utter a single word to the little girl, but if possible, he’s even more speechless now. How does she know that he’s Spiderman?! How does she even know who he is in the first place? Peter hasn’t seen her since the funeral, and even then, he’d only seen her from a distance. 

“Morgan…” Peter turns to see Pepper standing in the doorway looking stern. “What did we talk about in the car on the way over here?”

Morgan gives her mother a disgruntled look, but seems to think better of whatever snarky answer she wants to give in favor of repeating what she’s obviously supposed to say. “Peter being Spiderman is a secret.”

“And…?” Pepper prompts.

Her little eyebrows furrow in frustration. “And Peter may not want to come live with us.” Pepper smiles and nods, but Morgan isn’t done. “But Daddy said he would! He even bought-ed Peter his own pajamas for story time! He _showed_ me!”

“Ok, I’m sorry, but _what_ is going on?” Peter is highly confused. “Did she just say that Tony bought me pajamas?”

“Yes,” Pepper says. “I tried to stop him. They have little arc reactors on them.” 

Peter can’t help the unhinged laugh that escapes his throat. Tony had bought him Iron Man pjs? When? _Why?_

“Morgan, why don’t you go back out and have some more of Mrs. Parker’s walnut-date loaf,” Pepper suggests. 

“I don’t like it,” she pouts. “It’s icky. And I want to stay with Peter.” She slides over and holds Peter’s hand, and Peter feels helpless under her sway. 

“Miss Stark,” Pepper begins, sounding serious. Morgan has obviously heard her name in that tone before, because she huddles closer to Peter and pulls out the puppy eyes. “You’re being rude. Now go back out with the others and be polite. And don’t worry,” she says, softening the blow. “Peter will be out in a minute.”

Morgan looks up to Peter for confirmation so he smiles and nods his head. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows that he doesn’t want to upset her. So she goes, with only one brief look back. 

Pepper looks at Peter and smiles. “You must have forgotten our meeting,” she says, not unkindly. And yes, he had forgotten. Even now he doesn’t really remember having set up a meeting in the first place. 

“Sorry, I…” he trails off, mind blanking completely. 

“It’s fine,” she says sweetly. “How about this… You take a few minutes to settle and we’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready. Okay?” 

So after five very short minutes, Peter has changed and cleaned up enough to feel presentable. His hands tremble as he joins the others, feeling somehow like he’s going to be facing a firing squad. 

But it turns out that it’s worse than that. At least he can dodge bullets. But there’s no dodging this… It turns out that this is a reading of a portion of Tony’s will – The unknown woman is a lawyer – and the information is staggering. 

“This can’t be right…” Peter tries desperately. “There must be some mistake.”

“There’s no mistake, Peter,” Pepper says gently. “If Tony had lived, the money would have gone into a trust instead of going straight to you, but the amount would have been the same. And everything else was already set up as well. This is what Tony wanted. And he made absolutely sure that I knew and agreed with it.”

Millions. _Millions!_ Tony has left him _multiple_ millions of dollars. And a car. And an actual, legitimate internship at Stark Industries – which Pepper and Rhodey informs him is again located in what had once been Stark Tower in the city – which is also the headquarters for what’s left of the Avengers since the compound was destroyed. 

But it doesn’t stop there. No, Tony had also procured Peter a guaranteed, _pre-paid_ spot at MIT after he graduates high school, _and_ designated living space for him and Aunt May at the new/old Stark Tower. And it isn’t even dependent on living there full time. Peter and Aunt May can live there always or never, or any amount of time in-between.

And speaking of Aunt May… Since May and Peter rent their apartment, Tony had simply bought the building and gifted May their unit in perpetuity – her’s to do with as she pleases. 

Along with a hefty retirement fund, so that she’ll never have to work again – if that’s what she wants. 

As the list goes on, Peter is left completely speechless. He tries to avoid dealing with his own feelings by watching his aunt’s face go through several various emotions. 

She starts off polite, but obviously annoyed – because even though Tony had died sacrificing himself for the good of humanity, she has spent the last five years blaming him for bringing Peter into the whole mess in the first place. 

Even though Peter has argued that he was already out on the streets fighting crime, and that all Tony ever really did was make him safer. 

So, going into this meeting she hadn’t had very high hopes, Peter knows. 

But now, after she’s heard all of the life-changing ways in which Tony had planned for their future, her face has gone from shock and awe, to tears of joy mixed with shameful guilt – probably for not being nicer to him while he had still been alive.

On Peter’s part, his own feelings of shameful guilt is two-fold. First, he can’t help but blame himself for Tony’s death. If Peter had been faster or a better fighter, he thinks he could have gotten the gauntlet to anyone besides Tony who would have successfully been able to wield it. 

And Peter knows that these thoughts are pointless and also downplay Tony’s sacrifice. But he can’t help it. Peter misses him so much.

Which brings Peter to his second point – which is that he knows he has no right to any of Tony’s things… not even his memory. 

Peter isn’t the only person that Tony left behind. There’s Pepper and Morgan, and even Happy and Rhodey, among many others. And everything that Peter accepts takes away from one, if not all of them.

“I can’t…” He swallows around the lump in his throat, and tries his hardest not to let tears well up in his eyes. “I can’t accept these things,” he says weakly. 

Aunt May looks concerned, but no one else seems fazed. “Tony said you’d say that,” Rhodey says, seemingly amused that Tony can continue to be right even after death. “He also made us promise to convince you.”

“Which is why,” Pepper continues, standing. “I have this to give you.” She places a Stark phone in his hand. “There’s a message on there for you, from Tony.” Peter clutches the phone like it’s a grenade, ready to explode in his face if he loosens his grip. “And Peter,” she says, refocusing his attention. “I also want to make sure that you know that your inheritance is not taking anything away from anyone else – not Happy or Rhodey, or even me or Morgan. We _all_ want you to have this… especially Tony.”

She steps closer and smoothes her hand over his hair in a comforting, motherly fashion. 

“Thank you, Ms. Potts, really… But I can’t-”

“Just listen to Tony’s message and think about it, Peter,” she interrupts. “Take as much time as you need.”

They all stand to leave, and Morgan walks up to stand in front of where Peter’s still sitting on the couch – phone still clutched in his hand. 

He had thought that during the meeting she had maybe fallen asleep, but now he realizes that she was being quiet so that she could follow along. “Don’t worry, Peter,” she says, laying one small hand over Peter’s on top of the phone. “Daddy will tell it to you right. Then you’ll understand.”

Peter isn’t sure exactly what there is for him to understand, but she seems convinced. And since when was someone named Stark ever really wrong in the end?

They all move toward the exit, but Happy hangs back. “It’s good to see you, Peter,” he says. And he sounds sincere. “I wish it were under better circumstances.” Happy smiles, but it’s strained and sad. And Peter knows exactly how he feels, because Peter is feeling the same. 

“Me too,” he responds, trying his best not to break down completely. “That is… I also wish the circumstances were better. But it’s good to see you too, Happy.” 

Happy chuckles weakly, but his smile looks more genuine after hearing Peter’s ramblings. Then he seems to remember something. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I almost forgot…” He leans down next to the couch and picks up a heavy laptop bag. “The contents are explained in the message,” he says cryptically. 

Peter slips the phone into his pants pocket and takes the bag, and then joins May in walking them to the door. The goodbyes are awkward and a bit strained, but soon it’s just May and Peter and the heavy silence blanketing the modest apartment. 

“I’ll turn everything down too, if that’s what you want, Peter.” 

Peter’s eyes close and he slips to the ground, overwhelmed by everything, but especially May’s words. She kneels down and joins him on the floor – thin arms pulling him into a hug that helps hold together the fraying edges of Peter’s psyche. 

“And I will support your decision with no questions asked,” she assures him, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

He looks up and into her eyes. “I don’t want you to turn anything down,” he tells her. She deserves the world, and Peter would never intentionally take away from her happiness. He knows that she’s always had dreams of traveling the world. And to think that she could spend the rest of her life doing just that, without having to worry about money or working ever again? Peter would do a lot more than this to make that happen for her. 

“And you?” she asks. 

He swallows nervously. “I’m going to listen to Mr. Stark’s message, and then I’ll think about it.” 

“Alright,” she says simply. After giving one last hug, she helps Peter to his feet. He turns to go back to his room, but she stops him with a hand on his sleeve. “But before you disappear again, we need to talk about last night.”

Peter blushes – his body not quite catching up with his brain when he thinks of what happened last night… or rather what happened this morning. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he says, head bowed. He doesn’t apologize for staying out all night. The school year is over, and he knows that it won’t be the last time it will happen. 

And for May, Peter is sure that her feelings must be mixed. On the one hand, since May had survived the Snap, she had spent the last five years living without him – she’s used to him not being in the apartment. 

But on the other hand, she was used to him not being there because he was _dead_. She spent those years missing him and grieving him and trying to accept his death among so many others in her life. It’s only natural that she feels overprotective now that he’s back.

But the reality, whether she likes it or not, is that even though Peter is back… he’s changed. Peter has lost so many people in his short life, and Tony’s death has hit him particularly hard. So Peter has found himself being even more reckless than usual – falling back on his alter ego for huge chunks of every day to help him cope. 

And so he knows that he’ll go out again tonight, and there’s a decent chance that he won’t come back home until after sunrise. But he could be better about letting her know where he is and that he’s ok. 

“I’ll try to be better about calling,” he promises. 

May sighs. “I just… I feel like I don’t ever see you.” 

“I know…” Peter wishes things could be different, but even now the phone and Tony’s message is tearing him up inside. He can only play normal, well-adjusted teen for so long before the serious issues start bleeding through the façade. 

“How about we have dinner together tonight?” she suggests. “We could get Thai from that place you like?” 

Well, he’s gotta eat if he’s going to keep from passing out again, Peter figures. Might as well be dinner with Aunt May. “Yeah, sure. Eight o’clock?” 

She smiles and nods, and Peter makes his way to his bedroom. 

Placing the laptop on his desk, Peter takes the phone out of his pocket and just stares at it, hand shaking slightly. He tries to wake it up, several times, but his fingers just won’t move. And even though he’s sure that the thing is already keyed into his voice, he’s suddenly gone mute – completely unable to utter the words that would start Tony’s final message to him.

Knowing when he’s defeated, Peter places the phone aside and puts his Spidey suit back on. Then with a silent, and completely irrational apology to Tony for making him wait, Peter pulls the mask over his head and crawls out the window – prepared for another long day of mind-numbing crime fighting. 

 

Except it’s not… mind numbing, that is. 

There’s very little crime on this particular Sunday, so Peter has a hard time thinking about anything other than Tony’s message. He’s terrified to hear it, but at the same time, it feels like one of the only things he has to look forward to. 

So once he’s back home after a quiet dinner with Aunt May, he takes hold of the phone again with every intention of listening to the message. 

Only to find himself frozen once more – desperate to hear Tony’s voice, but terrified of doing it on his own. 

Peter knows that he could venture out into the apartment right now and get May to listen to it with him no problem. But he’s scared to death of what his own reaction will be and he doesn’t want to distress her. 

It’s times like these when Peter wishes that he had a dog. Or a nice fluffy cat like Murph that would give him emotional support without much emotional investment. He tries to think of a suitable stand-in for an emotional support animal, and he’s ashamed, but also excited to realize that he’s thinking of Wade. 

Wade – the wisecracking mercenary who likes to spend his free time playing nursemaid to emotional disaster areas that don’t know how to not overexert themselves. Also known as – the only thing that’s occupied Peter’s mind as much as Tony’s message. The damaged killer that is as caring as Florence Nightingale, and as hot as the sun.

So Peter dons the Iron Spider suit over his street clothes, lets Aunt May know that he’s going out, and then sets out to find Deadpool. 

He’s not at home, but a brief consultation with Karen determines that he might be found at a totally disreputable bar known as Sister Margaret’s. Peter remembers him mentioning it, and according to Karen, it’s one of Wade’s well-known haunts. 

It will take a while to get there, but Peter is too nervous and impatient to wait and see if Wade will return. So he tells Karen to set a course and starts swinging. 

***

“You didn’t have to sic Domino on me, Weas,” Wade pouts, offended. “You know that whatever makes her so lucky, by default makes everyone around her far less lucky, right?”

Wade’s mask is rolled up to his nose and he takes another shot – placed in front of him by Dopinder, who has graduated from mopping floors to pouring booze… while under the very watchful eye of Sister Margaret’s proprietor, of course.

“Walking in on you sticking it to some twink doesn’t sound very lucky to me,” Weasel responds. 

Wade ignores the jab. “He thought I was _married_ , Weas! He escaped out the window before I had a chance to explain!”

“Are you sure that wasn’t because of your dick?” Weasel asks. “Because he _can’t_ have been prepared for that nightmare.”

Dopinder leans in and tops off Wade glass. “I’m sure you are a very kind and thorough lover, DP,” he says before Weasel shoves him to the side. 

“Thank you, Dopinder,” Wade responds. “I would expect no less from my most _favorite_ child.” Wade gives Weasel a scathing look and then sighs. “Oh well… at least he left a note. Though I wish he’d left his number… or his underwear,” he says. 

“That’s disgusting,” Weasel intones.

“Yeah, it is,” Wade says dreamily. “Anyhoo…” he gets up off the stool. “I’m headed to the can. Save my seat.” 

“I will threaten great bodily harm to anyone who sits on your stool, Mr. Pool, sir!” Dopinder shouts. “My thirst for blood cannot be quenched!”

“It sure can’t!” Wade agrees, heading down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Wade takes his time at the urinal – reading over all the carved and scribbled messages on the wall to see if there are any new ones. There aren’t – how disappointing. 

So he takes a red crayon out of a pouch on his belt and begins drawing a little red spider with the words “Spidey Rules!” around it on the rough concrete. He outlines it with a blue crayon to make it less blurry, and then steps back to admire his work. 

Squinting, he leans back in and adds a couple of hearts, then puts the crayons away and smiles to himself. “He sure does,” he says gently, kissing his finger tips and touching the drawing. 

He heads back to the bar with Spidey on the mind and a smile on his face, only to feel his heart stop in his chest when he hears yelling and sees Dopinder reaching across the bar to shove a paring knife up close to the throat of someone who’s sitting on Wade’s stool.

Time seems to slow down while Wade’s body only seems to speed up, and before he can think, _No! Not Peter!_ , Wade has his own much more imposing blade placed across Dopinder’s throat as Wade stands behind him.

“You know you’re my favorite, Dopinder,” Wade says lowly, fighting the urge to slit his friend’s throat. “But you’re gonna make Daddy do something that he really doesn’t want to do unless you put the knife down, all right?”

Dopinder squeaks and drops the knife with a clatter to the wooden bar-top – making sure to keep his arms hovering in the air so that he doesn’t make any substantial movements. 

“There we go,” Wade says while he sheathes his blade and helps coax Dopinder back into a more relaxed position. “Calm down, Captain Bloodlust. You know I was only kidding before.” Actually he hadn’t been kidding – he just hadn’t really cared either way what happened to someone who might try to take his seat. 

But put Peter in that seat (in street clothes no less) and Wade sees how his callousness had been quite foolhardy. 

“Hey, Pete!” he says brightly, turning to the boy on the opposite side of the bar. “Sorry about the misunderstanding. I hope you can forgive my overly exuberant friend here.”

Peter looks pretty shaken, considering that he’s Spiderman and this kind of shit probably happens to him all the time. He nods in agreement – hovering awkwardly over the bar stool, looking very unsure whether he should find somewhere else to sit, or maybe leave all-together. 

“Tell Peter that you’re sorry, Dopinder. He’s a very nice person and probably wants to keep at least most of his blood inside his body.”

Dopinder apologizes and Weasel sends him to clean the bathrooms for his sins, leaving Wade free to hop over the bar and shove some asshole off of the barstool next to Peter so that he can sit next to his Spidey. The guy isn’t very happy about it, but when he sees that it’s Deadpool, he practically runs away, so Wade is satisfied. 

Wade proceeds to prop his elbow on the bar as he turns to face Peter – who’s finally sitting down all the way. “I’d ask if you come here often,” Wade says. “But _I_ do, so I know that _you_ don’t. So, Are you here for me, Baby Boy?” Peter ignores the question, but blushes and glances nervously at Weasel, who’s standing there staring at them with narrowed eyes. “Hey barkeep,” Wade says, probably more loudly than necessary. “Can you whip up a Shirley Temple for my young friend here?”

Peter doesn’t argue, but he looks like he kind of wants to as Weasel sets to making the drink. When he’s done, Weasel putters about and pretends like he’s not trying to listen in on their conversation, but Wade sees right through him – the nosy bastard. 

Wade tries to remind himself not to make mention of Peter’s alter ego, but watching him lick a drop of pink liquid up the side of his glass before popping a bright red cherry into his mouth actually makes Wade’s brain short circuit. 

So he just sits there saying, “Uhhhhhhhhhh…….” until Peter notices and gives him a funny look – one single eyebrow raised and head tilted adorably. Wade shakes himself. “I’d like to get your phone number this time,” he says. “Just in case you have to swing away at a moment’s notice again.” Shit. He probably should have phrased that differently.

“I didn’t-” Peter’s cuts himself off and looks nervously at Weasel before continuing, much more quietly. “I _walked_ ,” he says. Then, “You got my note, right?” Wade nods. “It’s just… you sounded like you had your hands full. And I really needed to get home.” He seems to be getting more and more frustrated. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh yeah, Petey Pie?” Wade says, feeling disappointed. “Then why are you here? Looking for work?”

Weasel whips his head in their direction – eyes wide and disbelieving. “No,” Peter assures the man. “Definitely not.” Weasel looks relieved, going back to wiping the bar down in the same spot as he has been the last five minutes. “I actually came here to ask you for a favor.”

 _And how exactly do you plan on thanking me for said favor?_ Wade wants to ask. He stifles the urge – but just barely. “Ask away,” he tells the blushing boy. “Daddy Deadpool is always happy to help.”

Weasel does this weird scoff/snort combo so Wade knocks a shot glass to the floor on the bartender’s side. He gets a bitchface in return, but Weasel leaves them a little more alone, so Wade counts it as a win.

“Well, uh…” Peter dips his fingertip in his drink and runs it around the rim of his glass – keeping his head down while he speaks. “Today I learned that um, _someone_ left me a bunch of crazy stuff in their will…” _Tony Stark_ , Wade thinks immediately. “And uh… one of the things that he left me is a recorded message. And I really want to listen to it, but I don’t want to do it alone, and I can’t really ask anyone who’s close to me because I have no idea how I’m going to react, so I thought that _maybeyou’dcomebacktoyourapartmentandlistentoitwithme?_ ” 

Peter peers up at Wade with puppy eyes so sweet and sad and hopeful that he knows it doesn’t matter what he’s asking… One look at that face and Wade would quite literally kill for this kid. Though that’s not a huge deal, considering who Wade is and what he does for a living. _Whatever – it’s the thought that counts,_ Wade thinks to himself. 

“So… moral support?” Wade clarifies. Peter nods his head and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly. “Will you give me your number this time?” he asks, hopeful. 

“Sure, yeah. Absolutely,” Peter says faux-enthusiastically. Though he very tellingly _doesn’t_ offer the information up right away, and Wade has to appreciate the little minx’s gall to lie to his face. 

But Wade still wants to try his damnedest to get those digits, so he throws some cash down for Peter’s drink and whisks the Spiderling toward the exit with an arm slung possessively around his waist. “Dopinder!” he shouts. The man in question peeks his head out of the women’s bathroom – both hands full of tampons. “Get your keys, buddy. We’re hitching a ride!” 

Buck happens to be walking by the bathroom – unfortunately for him – and Dopinder shoves all of the tampons into the large man’s hands before rushing to join them on their way out the door. 

Peter looks at Wade worriedly. “Don’t worry, Pete. Dopinder isn’t only a stabby rage monster… he’s also a cab driver.”

“That’s not as comforting as you may think it is,” Peter says. 

And Wade laughs – feeling the constant ache in his chest that has Vanessa’s name on it easing even more.


	5. Taxi Cabs and Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have very little knowledge of how the Iron Spider suit works, so my descriptions of what it does and how it works is just what makes the most sense to me and my story. Sorry if I get it wrong. 
> 
> Oh, and I'm also sorry about the heavy feels in this chapter, but it had to happen, unfortunately. Apparently this is the 'cry it out' portion of post-End Game Therapy. But keep in mind that I'm here for virtual hugs if anyone needs them! <3

When Wade joins Peter in the back of Dopinder’s car, Peter doesn’t really think anything of it – it is a taxi after all. But soon it becomes clear that Wade’s main objective for sitting in the backseat is to pull Peter sideways onto his lap for the duration of the ride. 

“Shouldn’t we be wearing our seatbelts?” Peter asks warily.

“Aww… ‘seatbelts.’ You’re adorable.” Wade pinches Peter’s cheek. And even though it’s all kinds of condescending, Peter still can’t stop the hopeless blush that rises to his cheeks. 

“Yeah?” he counters. “Well, you’re incorrigible.” 

“Thanks.” Wade pinches Peter’s other cheek just to be annoying. “I try.” 

“You succeed.” 

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Wade leers, and Peter kind of wants to slap him, but instead he ends up leaning forward and kissing him – taking not only Wade, but also himself by surprise in doing so. 

It’s brief, but no less passionate for all that. And Peter is actually kind of proud of himself for it. Especially for the way Wade goes all slack-jawed and dumbfounded until Peter leans in and kisses him again – slower, but also extremely thorough. 

Wade seems content to let Peter keep control of the situation, so he does. Peter shifts his position so that he’s straddling Wade’s lap, their bodies flush against one other.

And it’s like Peter is suddenly transformed… or at least it feels that way. All the grief and sadness and all-consuming guilt gets locked away in a far-reaching part of Peter’s mind for him to worry about later. It feels like utter relief – Like his slate is wiped clean to make room for new feelings… better feelings. 

Peter loses track of time while things get pretty hot and heavy. It’s really only the tingling of his spidey sense that makes him stop kissing Wade and stick his hands and feet to various surfaces to create a cage around Wade’s body. 

“What are you-” Wade’s question gets cut off when a truck’s horn sounds and the taxi swerves wildly before correcting its course. Wade grabs Peter around the waist and ducks his head under Peter’s arm so that he can see what’s going on. “You alright there, Dopinder?”

“Sorry! Yes, yes I am fine,” he responds with a strained voice. 

“Eye’s on the road, right, buddy?” Wade asks, voice heavy with implication. “This isn’t a Bandhu situation we’ve got here, ok?”

Dopinder nervously agrees, and Wade tries to get Peter to continue where they left off. But Peter is a little shaken, and the reminder that they’re not alone makes Peter release his stuck appendages and take a seat next to Wade instead. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I got kind of carried away there.”

“Please don’t ever apologize for doing that,” Wade tells him, while he tries to surreptitiously adjust himself. After he gets comfortable, he picks up Peter’s hand and kisses his knuckles before lowering it again. “We’re almost there,” he adds gently.

Which reminds Peter where he’s going and what he plans on doing when he gets there. He swallows down a sudden welling of saliva as his stomach lurches. And that’s when they pull to a stop in front of Wade’s building.

“Thanks for the ride, Dopinder.” Wade says as they depart. “Try not to kill anyone on your way back to the bar!” 

Peter also thanks him, though much more quietly and politely. He receives a suspicious look in return that reminds him of how Happy usually looks at him. It’s sort of disconcerting, but it’s familiar, so Peter just tries to shrug it off. 

It’s actually pretty easy to do because now he’s faced with the reality of Tony’s message as Wade leads him inside and towards the door to the stairwell, instead of the perfectly good elevator. 

“Not that it really matters,” he says – because it doesn’t. Peter could run up twelve flights of stairs without breaking a sweat. He’s just curious. “But why don’t we just take the elevator?”

“The elevator?!” Wade exclaims. “Haven’t you ever seen a movie, Pete? _Speed, Gremlins 2, Spiderman: Homecoming?_ Wild stuff goes down in elevators, Cutie. I try my best to avoid them.” 

“Wait… What was that last one?” Peter asks, confused. 

Wade breaks loose and starts sprinting up the stairs – taking them two, sometimes three at a time. “Sorry, Sweetie! Can’t hear you!” Wade shouts, already one flight up before Peter even starts moving. 

He’d blame it on his occupied mind, but Peter can admit that it’s mostly the sight of Wade’s fit body in that tight, red and black suit that’s making his feet stick to the floor… metaphorically.

Not for long, though. As soon as Wade starts to ascend to the next level, Peter shakes himself out of his stupor and activates the Iron Spider suit with a double tap on the watch that he’s wearing on his left wrist. It’s not just a watch, of course, but actually the Iron Spider suit disguised as a watch. Karen helped him figure out how to do it, and Peter has to admit that it’s a really convenient way to wear his suit and stay completely inconspicuous at the same time. 

And so Peter begins to sling web after web up the middle of the stairwell – passing Wade in seconds, and arriving on the correct floor mere seconds later. 

When he gets there, Peter leans his back against the door leading to the hallway and crosses his arms over his chest in a display of ease. He stays in the Iron Spider Suit just because he’s lazy – (Ok, maybe he’s doing it to show off… just a little). 

Eventually Wade reaches the twelfth floor. He isn’t too out of breath, which makes sense if he does this all the time. But the part of his face and neck that are showing do have a slight flush. Peter thinks that’s also to be expected, but he rethinks what’s causing the flush when Wade runs straight for him and crushes their bodies together against the door.

“That was so hot… you have no idea…” Wade grips Peter’s hips and pulls him closer. “Woah, this suit feels weird. This isn’t the one you were wearing yesterday, is it?” 

“Uh… no. This one-” Peter gets cut off when someone opens the door and the two of them go spilling out onto the hallway floor. 

“This must be why I felt the sudden need to take the stairs instead of the elevator. I should have known it had something to do with you, Wade.” Domino stares down at the two of them – obviously annoyed, but also slightly amused, Peter thinks. “So… You never told us that you knew Spiderman, Wade. Care to introduce us?”

Wade jumps to his feet while Peter gets there more slowly, more warily. “Sure thing, Doms.” Wade turns to Peter. “Spidey, this is my friend and neighbor, Domino. Doms, this here is Spiderman.” 

Peter offers Domino a hand to shake, which she does, though with a certain measure of obvious skepticism. So Peter exaggerates his Queens accent and tries to deepen his voice as he says, “Hey, how ya doin’? Nice ta meet cha. Spiderman,” he says, pointing to himself awkwardly. 

“Uh huh,” she says, cutting her gaze to Wade for a moment before returning to Peter. “Nice to meet you too, little chick,” she says with a knowing look. Peter is worried at first – the nickname is unusual, but at the same time seems to spark a memory somehow… something that was said the first time the two saw each other, maybe? But then Wade begins to whisk him down the hall towards his apartment and he doesn’t really have much time to think about it. 

“Great running into to you,” Wade tells her. “But we have a very important superhero meeting to attend inside my apartment, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye now!” 

She raises one imperious brow at Wade including himself in the title of ‘superhero,’ but she can’t stop the little crooked smile that Peter glimpses just as Wade pulls him through the door and slams it behind them – locking all the locks for good measure.

“There!” Wade says enthusiastically. “No more interruptions.” 

Peter tries to put his concerns about Wade’s friend out of his mind as he deactivates the Iron Spider suit – collapsing it back down into the high-tech and stylish looking wristwatch. 

“Wow! That’s so cool!” Wade sort of squeals like a little girl as he grabs Peter’s wrist and drags it up close to his face. “Can I try it?!” 

And even though he looks like a kid on Christmas morning, Peter can’t let him. Even if it were possible, Peter can’t ever let anyone else use the suit. Not ever. The thought of losing it is devastating. 

“Sorry, but you can’t,” he tells Wade. “I’m the only person it works for. It’s keyed into my DNA.”

“Aw, bummer.” Wade looks disappointed, but only for a moment. “That’s some really impressive shit though,” he says, smiling. “Did you make it yourself?”

Wade’s face falls again when Peter sort of folds in on himself and takes a seat on the couch. “No. Um, it was To- er, it was Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark made all of my suits.” Wade takes a seat next to him and starts rubbing a hand up and down Peter’s back. “Well, not the first one, technically. But that was just a sweatshirt and sweatpants with homemade goggles and web shooters… It was nothing compared to the suits that Mr. Stark made for me.”

“Sweats?!” Wade exclaims. “My first Deadpool suit was a pair of sweats. You were smart though… You used red right off the bat – I’ve seen the YouTube videos. Probably saved you a lot of time getting the blood out, am I right?” 

“Uhhhh… Well, it takes a lot of force to break my skin, so there isn’t usually any blood…” 

“Right! Of course! I certainly wasn’t insinuating that you normally draw a lot of your opponents’ blood while in the course of your work. Because that’s not what I’m familiar with _at all_.”

“What?” Peter asks, confused, but also pretty concerned about what Wade gets up to in the course of his Deadpool work. Intellectually, Peter knows that Wade is a killer – Karen told him the cold, hard facts about the man already. But it’s really hard for Peter to remember that little tidbit when Wade has only ever been amazing to him, and the man has never even set his spidey sense to tingling.

To be fair, his spidey sense has been on the fritz a little bit lately, but it still works when there’s serious danger about, which is reassuring. It also allows Peter to let his guard down around Wade, and so he doesn’t even flinch when Wade pulls him back into his lap – just like he’d done in the back of the taxi. 

“Tony Stark was a brilliant man,” Wade says gently. Peter swallows down the emotion trying to break free. “I bet he had some really choice words for an amazing person like you, Peter.” Damn it. There’s no stopping the tears now. But Wade removes his gloves and wipes Peter’s tears away. “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this right now,” he says sincerely. “No one is going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do here.”

Peter takes a deep breath and reaches his hands up to land on either side of Wade’s head before pulling him in for a sweet kiss. When he pulls back, he hooks his hands under the edge of Wade’s mask and then stills and waits to see if Wade will permit him to remove it. “Can I take it off?” he asks. “I want to see your eyes.”

Wade grabs Peters hands and guides them to the seam at the back of his head, and then Peter proceeds to pull the Velcro-ed sides apart until the mask slips off of Wade’s head. “There you are,” Peter says, kissing Wade once more. 

“Here I am,” Wade replies. He’s still rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. The repetition is calming, and the physical touch is like a cup of hot cocoa after hours spent out in the winter’s chill. 

And Peter realizes that he’s probably about as ready as he’ll ever be to face Tony’s message, so he takes the phone out of his pocket and sets it on the coffee table. “I’m ready.” 

He allows Wade to tug him into one more all-encompassing hug before shifting over to sit next to him. He takes a deep breath, shakes out the nervous tremors in his sweaty hands, and then leans forward to wake the phone up with a press of his finger tip. 

And then he’s there. Tony Stark – all blue and glowy because he’s a hologram, and not the flesh and blood hero that Peter can’t help but love. And it hurts. It hurts so much that he almost misses the beginning of the message because his eyes are filled with tears and he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“Breathe, Baby,” Wade insists gently. He places Peter’s hand in his own and squeezes – grounding Peter to the here and now, enough that he can take another deep breath and blink back the tears. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony says. _Deep breaths,_ Peter thinks. _Just keep breathing._ “God, how I miss you.” 

Wade squeezes Peter’s hand again, and Peter squeezes back. 

“And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so, so, extremely sorry… for so many things. Because if you’re listening to this, then that means you’re back, and I’m not there with you. And I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am about that.”

Tony pauses to drag a hand down his haggard face, and it’s obvious that his eyes are red, even through the dense fog of hazy blue glow. Which makes Peter wonder if this isn’t the first time that Tony had attempted to record this message. 

“I’m more sorry than you can ever know, kid,” Tony’s eyes seem to lock directly onto Peter’s for the space of three heartbeats, but then he gets up from where he’s sitting on some couch or chair (Peter’s not sure because it isn’t part of the hologram), and starts walking in little, winding circles with his hands in his pockets. “But enough about that,” Tony says flippantly, glancing at Peter. “Because now we have to have a little chat about your inheritance.”

Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat. This is the last thing he wants to hear from Tony. How is he ever going to say no if the man’s ghost makes him promise to accept?

“I know, I know,” Tony says. “You don’t need it. You don’t want it. You don’t deserve it… blah, blah, blah.” Tony rolls his eyes, and Peter suddenly wishes so hard that the man was really there, because he wants to object to Tony completely disregarding all of Peter’s objections. 

“If you want to know the truth,” Tony begins. “You have Pepper to thank for me not going overboard here.”

“That’s what you call _not_ going overboard?!” Peter exclaims, forgetting for a moment that Tony can’t hear him.

“Yeah,” Tony says calmly. “This is me restraining myself… ask anyone.” 

Peter looks helplessly at Wade, who only looks mildly confused as he gives Peter an encouraging smile along with a shrug. 

“And yes, I’m aware that it’s more than you’ll ever need… But you’re a smart boy, Pete. And you know very well that it won’t even put a dent in my estate. So please consider giving this old man some peace of mind, wherever I may be, and accept what you’ve been given with minimal teenage angst.” 

“ _Dick…_ ” Wade mumbles under his breath. So Peter squeezes Wade’s hand extra hard in retaliation. “Ow! Sorry! _Sorry…_ ” he whisper-shouts. Peter eases his grip.

“So now that that’s sorted,” Tony continues, returning to his seat and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There’s one more bequeath that wasn’t mentioned in your meeting with Pepper, because I stipulated that you hear this directly from me and no one else.”

The nervous butterflies flapping weakly in the pit of his stomach come to life with an extra adrenaline dump, and Peter has no idea what to expect.

“I truly don’t know how you’ll feel about what I’m about to tell you, Peter. So believe me when I say that, you’re decision to accept or reject this particular offer is completely up to you, and no one will be upset if you choose to take a pass.”

As Tony talks, Peter finds himself leaning forward to mirror the hologram’s posture. And with the next thing he says, Peter lets go of Wade’s hand completely because his body goes limp with shocked surprise. 

“Well, Peter… the truth is that I’ve created a new AI. And like Jarvis, and Friday, and all the others before now, this one is also modeled after a real person.” Tony fiddles with his hands and says what Peter would have never expected (though why he didn’t makes no sense at all, because this is very much something that Tony Stark would do). “The AI’s name is Tony, and it’s… well, _he’s_ , um, me.” 

Peter drops his head into his hands and pulls on his hair in desperation. Tony made himself into an AI – a virtual Tony Stark that can listen and talk, who can carry on conversations any time of the day, for any reason that Peter might want – But who will never be the same… never be _real_. What is Peter supposed to do with that?

“There will only be three people with admin authorization,” Tony continues. “You, Pepper, and Morgan when she turns fifteen. And unless one of you changes it, Friday will continue to run the tower, and Karen will continue to run your suits.” 

Oh God… Peter could replace Karen with Tony and they could patrol together! _No! He’s not real… he’s not_ real, Peter reminds himself. 

“Pepper has mixed feelings about this – not about you having the AI, but about me creating it in the first place.” Tony stands up again in the hologram, pacing slowly back and forth. “And I understand how it may be… off-putting… to some people. So once again… please don’t use it if it’s going to make things harder for you, alright? 

“But if there’s any possibility that it will be ok, nothing would make me happier than to know that I was able to help you… That I was there for you when you needed me… Because I’ve let you down so many times, kid.”

“No, Tony…” Peter says, tears choking him. “You’ve never…”

“Though if you can’t, I understand. Completely. But just in case, your copy of the AI is located on the modified sim card housed in this Stark phone.” Tony points to the phone on the coffee table that’s projecting the hologram. “It’s yours to use however you choose, but no matter _what_ you choose, I know that you’ll be phenomenal, Peter.”

Wade wraps his arms around Peter’s hunched form and hugs him close. It gives Peter the fortitude to sit back up straight and take a deep breath to continue watching and listening. 

“You’ve been gone five years today, and I still think about you every day.” He sounds so sad. Peter’s heart breaks for him anew. “And I hope that you’ll never have to listen to this depressing message. I truly do. But if you do, I want you to know that… I love you, kid… in case I never get to tell you in person. 

“You are brilliant. You are amazing. And you are loved, Peter.” Helpless tears stream down Peter’s face as Tony stands up just to lean down again – his hand near the phone and his ethereal face so close to Peter’s own. “Don’t you _ever_ forget that.”

And just like that, Tony is gone once more – a gaping hole in the room that echoes the one in Peter’s heart. 

He turns instinctively into Wade’s chest and sobs – both men’s arms wrapped firmly around the other’s as Peter shakes and cries. 

Surprisingly though, the desperate misery doesn’t last all that long. Soon enough, Peter feels Wade rocking him gently while petting his hair and quietly speaking sweet words of comfort. “It’s ok, Baby Boy. Everything will be ok.” 

And he’s not sure exactly how it could ever possibly be ok, but the sound of Wade’s voice makes him feel calmer – and being held in his arms makes Peter feel safe – so it’s not impossible to think that maybe one day everything will be ok… somehow.


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. Just a smidge of plot. But I know that everyone needs a little pick-me-up after the tear-fest of the last chapter. 
> 
> Basically just fluff... You're welcome. ;)

“Dang it!” Peter frowns angrily at the holographic display in front of him. The specs should all be in place, but the simulation has failed once again.

“Oh, I know that tone of voice,” Tony says from across the lab, where he’s tinkering on something of his own. “Having trouble, there, Parker?” 

After putting down his soldering iron, Tony gets up and crosses to Peter’s workstation. He sets one hand on Peter’s shoulder, the other on the desktop, and leans down to look at what Peter’s doing. 

“I fixed the displacement problem, but velocity is still an issue, apparently, because the simulation failed _again_!” Peter’s frustration lessens a little when Tony’s warm hand squeezes his shoulder. 

“Any ideas on how to correct it?” Tony asks. 

Peter turns his head to look at Tony. “You got any plutonium lying around?” he asks with a smile. 

Tony narrows his eyes and tilts head to scrutinize him. “No… But I could probably get some.” Of course he could, Peter thinks. Tony Stark can get anything he wants. “Why?”

“Because, at this point,” Peter states. “I’m thinking of going the Flux Capacitor route, and I imagine that plutonium is somewhat hard to come by.” 

Tony stands and pivots his body to lean one hip against Peter’s workstation – arms crossed over the graphic kitten that’s adorning his chest. “Pfft… plutonium is easy. Try getting your hands on some vibranium,” he says. “Besides, why would you use plutonium when you can use Mr. Fusion?”

Tony smirks, and even though he usually claims to hate Peter’s pop culture references, Peter suspects that he secretly loves them. Because even though Tony complains, he’s never at a loss to understand what Peter is talking about. 

It makes Peter’s heart flutter almost as much as when Tony leans in and runs a hand through his hair – ruffling it obnoxiously with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

 

“I still think plutonium is the way to go,” Peter says, trying to chase the sensation by bumping his head up into the touch like a cat, eyes closed and practically purring. 

But it’s not Tony’s voice that responds, saying “Plutonium is _always_ the way to go.” And so Peter opens his eyes and realizes that he’s lying in a bed – still almost fully clothed (his shoes are missing), half under the covers, and with a warm body pressed up close behind him. “Oh, hey there,” Wade says. “You’re awake.”

Peter groans and closes his eyes again, trying to reclaim his dream. But the warm fingers don’t stop petting through his hair, and it feels so good that he decides to think about it later and focus on Wade instead. 

“What time is it?” he croaks. Peter’s throat is parched and his stomach feels like it wants really badly to be fed. 

“A little after ten.” Wade’s hand moves from Peter’s head to run soothingly over Peter’s back and shoulder. “I would have let you sleep longer, but your phone keeps buzzing and I thought it might be important.” 

Last night, Wade had changed out of the Deadpool suit and instead donned a much more casual ensemble. He’s big, and warm, and soft-ish, so Peter rolls over and snuggles into his chest – forgetting for a moment that there’s anything other than this. 

He mumbles his complete lack of concern about his phone and who could be calling him… for about two seconds. Then the phone buzzes again, and Peter suddenly remembers that he hadn’t called or texted Aunt May before falling asleep… _again_.

“Shit!” he says, slightly panicked. He unearths the phone from his pants’ pocket and sticks a single finger up to Wade’s lips to intone silence before answering. “Hey, Aunt May…! No, I’m fine…. I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just, I stayed at a friend’s last night and sort of fell asleep before remembering to call you…. No, I know what I promised, but I—”

Wade resumes petting through Peter’s hair, and it feels so good that it’s hard to focus on the chewing out that his aunt is giving him. “Yeah…. Yes…. Of course, May…. Yeah, I’ll be home soon…. Yes, I will tell Ned that you said hello…. Love you, too.” 

Peter ends the call with a sigh – setting is on his chest and relaxing back into Wade’s hold. He knows that he needs to get up and get moving, but he really doesn’t want to. He’d rather just stay here with Wade and enjoy the man’s pampering in peace. 

Unfortunately, the peace doesn’t last. 

“Soooo…” Wade begins. Peter thinks he’s going to start asking questions about why he’s talking to an aunt, instead of a mother or father – which is something that Peter _really_ doesn’t want to talk about right now. But instead he asks, “Who’s Ned?”

Peter just groans again, and buries his face even further into Wade’s chest – practically ending up in his armpit. 

“It’s alright,” Wade assures him. “You don’t have to tell me.” And it’s not that Peter doesn’t want to tell him. It’s just that he’s already told Wade far too much about his real identity, and Peter barely even knows the man. “I do have to say though, the way you reacted when you thought Domino was my wife does seem fairly hypocritical if you already have a boyfriend.”

He can’t tell if Wade really is concerned that Peter is being unfaithful, or if he’s just giving Peter a hard time. So just to make his own life easier, Peter answers him – popping his head back up to give Wade an unamused look. “Ned is my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Okay.” Wade leans back against the pillows with his hands behind his head when Peter gets up and starts looking for his shoes. “Well, _my_ best friend is a seventy year old blind woman named Al.” 

Peter stops his search long enough to give Wade a confused frown. But Wade just smiles and doesn’t elaborate, so Peter continues to look for his missing footwear. 

He finds them, finally, underneath Wade’s Deadpool suit, and then he sits back down on the edge of the bed to put them on. 

“So I take it this means that you can’t stay for breakfast?” Wade asks.

“Uh, no. Sorry.” Peter stands again, wondering what the protocol is for this kind of thing. The day before he had basically just ran away. Though he doesn’t think that would be very appropriate now. But still… “I have to get home.”

Peter stands there looking down to where he’s nervously scuffing his shoes in the carpet, until Wade jumps up and exclaims, “How about I walk you home?!” He looks so excited, but Peter is unsure. “Unless you’re planning on swinging home?” 

“No… no, I’m going to walk…” Wade’s face falls at Peter’s lackluster reply, and Peter can’t handle it. If Wade really wants to walk him home, Peter figures the least he can do is let him. So he smiles a small, but genuine smile and says, “But it would be nice to have some company.”

Wade’s expression brightens again, and he immediately stumbles around the room looking for his own shoes and a hooded sweatshirt that Peter can’t help but notice has an embroidered symbol on it that looks an awful lot like his own Spiderman mask. 

It makes Peter smile. That is, until he notices how Wade casually tucks a gun into the waistband of his jeans. That’s much more disconcerting. 

But Peter tries to put it out of his mind for the time being as they walk the relatively short distance between Wade’s apartment and Peter’s.

They only get sidetracked once – at a food truck, where Wade buys four breakfast burritos and very nonchalantly hands two of them to Peter, who takes them with thanks. 

While they walk, they munch contentedly on the burritos in between innocuous small talk about their lives. They trade information about their mutations mostly, but also a little about their lives. 

Peter tells Wade that he lives with his aunt, but doesn’t really talk any more about the subject of family. And Wade briefly relays a story about his ex, Vanessa. But Peter is pretty sure that there’s more to it than Wade relays. 

He’s much more loquacious on the subject of his friends though – Weasel, Dopinder, and Domino Peter has already met, but ‘Blind Al’ takes up a fair amount of time in Wade’s stories, and Peter can’t decide whether he really wants to meet the woman, or if it might be too intimidating for him. Cocaine and firearms feature heavily in his tales of her, which are two things that Peter definitely tends to shy away from.

“… So I come back after five years to find out that she’s started using the Ivar instead of the Kullen – which is way too similar to the Hurdal, if you ask me. But it’s her life, I guess. And her apartment, now that I don’t live with her anymore. So what can you do, am I right?”

Peter doesn’t really understand what Wade’s talking about, but his voice is very pleasing to the ear, and the arm he has wrapped around Peter’s waist is very distracting. So by the time they reach Peter’s apartment, Peter almost wishes that he could invite the man inside, just so they can spend more time together. 

But that wish is doomed from the start, and Peter knows it. “This is me,” he says, stopping outside the building’s front door. 

“Oh, okay… right.” Wade starts to remove his arm from around Peter, but instead of stepping back, Peter steps up close in front of him and reaches up to wrap his arms around Wade’s neck. 

“Can I see you again?” he asks.

Wade pulls him even closer – practically engulfing Peter’s smaller body in his big, muscular arms. “Any time, Baby boy,” he says before kissing the thoughts right out of Peter’s head. 

They disentangle rather reluctantly, and Peter starts walking toward the door before he remembers something and jogs back, pulling out his phone as he does. “What’s your phone number?” he asks. 

Wade rattles it off immediately, and Peter sends him a text. It’s just a little spider, but it makes Wade giggle and pull him in for another kiss. “Any time, Petey… I mean it.” 

Peter leaves for real this time, and Wade watches him go. And even though Peter has been through the ringer lately, Wade makes him smile. And the warm feeling in his chest gives him the courage to face whatever the day may bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and happy belated birthday, Tony. We love you!! ♥


	7. Maguna the Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to remind everyone that in this story, Steve DID NOT stay with Peggy when he went back in time to return the stones. Because I've always shipped Steve and Bucky, and I hated that they had Steve abandon him without so much as a head's up. So Steve is still young, and still Captain America, and in _my_ story, he's going to live happily ever after with the _real_ love of his life.

After another uncomfortable conversation with Aunt May, Peter suggests that they spend the day together doing something enjoyable for both of them. So they take that trip to MOMA that Peter never got to take, and it’s nice. It’s like old times, and it serves to restore – if only just partially – the relationship between the two of them back to what it had been before. 

They also talk a little bit about Peter’s inheritance, and Peter ultimately decides to accept – if only to ease his Aunt’s mind, and to honor Tony’s wishes. It doesn’t mean that Peter has to be particularly happy about it, but it does seem like the sensible and mature thing to do. 

Which is why Peter is now standing outside the Tower at a little before six in the evening – nervous and unsure, but willing to try and see if this might just be the best place for him in this post-Tony Stark world that he finds himself living in.

Aunt May stays home, because that’s where she knows she’ll be most comfortable. And Peter promises that even if he does decide to live at the Tower, it won’t be full time, and that he’ll split his time between there and Aunt May’s apartment – at least until and unless she decides to move with him. 

He loves her so much, but he’s not a child anymore, and he feels like he needs to at least try to broaden his horizons and find a place where he feels like he fits. Because long gone are the days of innocent naiveté and grasping onto apron strings. 

Peter has been to space. He’s fought Titans and come back from the dead. It’s time for him to take his head out of the sand and face what’s happening in front of him. And to do so, he believes that this is where he should start.

So he takes a deep breath, holds his head up high, and walks through the door to his future.

“Welcome home, Mr. Parker.”

Peter startles at hearing his name broadcasted fairly loudly across the lobby. The voice doesn’t come from one of the security guards though, no. It’s Friday’s ‘voice,’ and once again, Peter marvels at Tony’s genius for creating such amazing technology.

“Um… thank you,” Peter responds awkwardly, while walking up to greet the guards. When he gets there, they’re all warm smiles and welcoming air, and Peter doesn’t have to show ID or anything before they guide him to the elevator and explain to him that all he needs to do is tell Friday to take him to the penthouse where Pepper will be waiting for him.

He’s wracked with nerves the whole way up, and when he gets there, it’s not just Pepper who’s waiting. Happy is there too, as well as Colonel Rhodes. But front and center is little Morgan – bouncing on the balls of her feet, and clutching a plush Spiderman doll that looks like it’s seen better days. 

They all look happy to see him, and greet him with genuine warmth, which makes Peter smile. But there’s a noticeable void where a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist should be. And Peter’s heart hurts. 

And then Morgan breaks free from her mother’s side and runs up to him – hugging his legs and beaming up at him. “Peter!” she exclaims. “You’re here!” She grabs onto his hand and starts pulling him down a hallway. And even though he expects someone to stop her, they don’t, and Peter is whisked along until they end up in a bedroom that must be Morgan’s.

When they get there, Peter can’t help but be a little stunned. There are some Iron Man odds and ends here and there, which is to be expected, of course. But the majority of the ornamentation in the room is Spiderman themed. There’s Spiderman bedding on both the top and bottom mattresses of her metal bunk bed (which looks awfully similar to Peter’s own bunk bed at home), more Spiderman plushies and action figures, Spiderman posters on the wall, and everything is colored red and blue – with splashes of gold accents that catch the eye. 

Morgan lets go of his hand and starts talking a mile a minute about everything in her room, and then she clambers up the ladder to the top bunk, where she promptly stands up and leaps off. There’s a chorus of shouts from the three adults in the doorway behind them, and Peter acts without thinking – dashing forward and catching her before she hits the ground.

Peter’s heart is beating out of his chest, but Morgan simply laughs joyously. “Morgan!” Pepper exclaims, rushing forward. Peter hands her over to her mother, who sets her on her hip. “We’ve talked about this!” she says. “You can’t keep doing that! Remember when you broke your arm?” 

Morgan looks completely unconcerned. “But Peter does it!” she says. “I seen it!”

“We’ll talk more about this later, young lady,” Pepper tells her as she sets Morgan back down on the floor. “I’m so sorry about that, Peter. She’s…” 

Pepper says, “A big fan,” at the same time as Colonel Rhodes says, “Just like her father.” And Peter can see it – He looks down at her beaming face, with her twinkling dark brown eyes, and he sees the intelligence there, as well as that reckless enthusiasm that was one of Tony’s most defining characteristics. 

“It’s ok,” he tells them. Then he squats down to get on Morgan’s level. “You know,” he begins. “When I was your age, I couldn’t do all the things that I can do now either.”

“You couldn’t?” she asks. 

“No, ma’am,” he says. “But I liked to pretend.”

“I like to pretend too!” 

“Yeah?!” he asks enthusiastically? “That’s awesome!”

She runs over to her nightstand and puts on a set of bracelet cuffs that look an awful lot like the web shooters that go with the first suit Tony made for Peter, but are obviously just for play. And then she runs back up to him and strikes a very Spidey-like pose while making a Very Serious face.

So Peter throws his hands up in the air and starts backing away slowly saying, “Oh no! Foiled again! Please let me go, Spidergirl!” 

Morgan pretends to shoot a web at him and he dodges and starts running around the room with her hot on his heels. He eventually ends up plastered against a wall that has a big poster of Iron Man on it – his hands and feet stuck fast as if he’s been webbed there. 

“I give up! I give up! You got me, Spidey!” She jumps up and down and cheers, and Peter looks over to see the fond looks adorning the three adults’ faces. 

Then Friday informs them that dinner is ready, and Peter jumps down from the wall and offers a hand out to Morgan. “Lead the way?” he asks – which she gladly does, keeping the ‘web shooters’ on as she does. 

***

After dinner, which is attended by all present – as well as Dr. Banner, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Sam Wilson – Peter is given a tour of his own personal quarters, which is located a floor below the penthouse. The tour is given by Captain America (who insists that everyone would prefer it if Peter calls them by their first names), because Pepper is busy helping Morgan with her bath. 

Besides Peter’s own bedroom (that has an attached bathroom, just like every other bedroom), there’s another empty bedroom for Aunt May, and Peter learns that they share the floor with Steve, Bucky, and Sam (Happy resides in his own part of the penthouse, and Rhodey shares the floor below Peter’s with Bruce and Wanda – though Wanda is in New Asgard right now, for reasons that haven’t been explained to Peter). There’s a communal kitchen, dining room, and living room on each floor, but every bedroom has its own small lounge area that’s tailor-made to fit the interests of each person. 

For example, Peter’s lounge has a wrap-around sofa with a state of the art entertainment center, and a workstation that’s chock-full of retro tech just like he has at Aunt May’s. And Peter has already been told by Bruce that he has full access to Tony’s private lab, so this particular addition to his living space just seems extra special.

It means that Tony remembered Peter’s affinity for tinkering, and supplied him with all sorts of fun and unique equipment that just for him to mess around with. And when he steps closer and starts pawing through it, he’s even more touched when he sees several items labeled with what looks like decade’s old pieces of masking tape with ‘T. Stark’ scrawled on them. 

Peter has to swallow down a sudden swell of emotion at the realization that at least some of these things were Tony’s own personal items from way back when. He wants to start checking out how they work immediately, but a throat clearing from the doorway behind him makes him turn.

It’s Pepper – dressed down in comfortable casual wear, instead of the chic pencil skirt and blazer that she’d been wearing earlier – and she has a small, sad smile on her pretty face. “Morgan is asking if you’ll join her for story time,” she says. 

Steve and the others have all left Peter alone to explore on his own – telling him that if he needs anything, to just let Friday know. And that if he wants to talk to any of them, they’re just a few doors away.

“Um… yeah, sure,” he says, putting down the old Gameboy that he’s holding. He starts to walk toward her, but she doesn’t move. Instead she starts wringing her hands together and averting her eyes. 

“Before you agree,” she starts. “There’s something you need to know.”

Peter halts, wondering what could be causing this kind of hesitance in her. “Ok….” 

“Have you listened to Tony’s message yet?” she asks – which isn’t what he’d been expecting.

“Yes?” he answers, unsure where this is headed. 

“So then I assume you know all about Tony’s new AI…” Peter nods. “I’m not going to ask if you’ve decided to use it yourself,” she says, which is good, because Peter hasn’t even decided that yet. “I don’t… I… I can’t,” she says. And Peter can tell that just saying that much is hard for her.

“But I allow Morgan to use it for two things.” Peter nods again to show that he’s paying attention. “The first is for story time.” _Oh._ “Tony used to read to her every night, without fail. So I allow her to use the AI for story time before bed. It seems to be helping her deal with him not being here, and it definitely helps her fall asleep.”

“Right….” _Ok_ , Peter thinks. _No more stalling._ “Well, I guess that’s ok.”

She seems to sense his hesitance. “Peter, if you’re not sure, it’s ok to say no.” Peter takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. “Like I said, story time happens every night. The offer will always be there.”

But Peter can’t bear the thought of disappointing Morgan. And maybe having her there will help to cushion the blow of emotional backlash. So he agrees, asking only for a few minutes to change and brush his teeth first. 

“Of course,” she says, looking somewhat relieved. “Head on up whenever you’re ready.” 

The bathroom is equipped with every toiletry that Peter could ever possibly want or need, including a brand new toothbrush and toothpaste. And he takes his time brushing his teeth and washing his face – trying to calm himself enough so that his hands will stop shaking. 

Eventually (and surprisingly), it’s the thought of Wade, and the memory of his bright smile and warm eyes that allows Peter to move his feet and leave the bathroom. And when he does, he notices that someone (probably Pepper) has placed a pair of pajama pants with a matching t-shirt at the foot of his bed.

They’re the aforementioned Iron-man pjs – complete with little round arc reactors – and Peter doesn’t even consider not wearing them. He puts them on and takes the elevator up to the penthouse, waving to Steve and Bucky (who are sitting awfully close together on a sofa in the communal living room watching some old black and white movie) on his way. 

When he gets to Morgan’s bedroom, Pepper is bending down to tuck her into the bottom bunk. When she steps back, Morgan scoots over close to the wall and demands that Peter join her. Peter is unsure about that, but Pepper nods and smiles, so he sits next to her on top of the covers and accepts an Iron Man plush that the little girl hands him.

Morgan herself is clutching the same, well-loved Spiderman doll that she’d been holding earlier. And she snuggles down next to him, completely content.

Pepper bids them both a good night, and then hesitates for a moment before leaning back down to smooth a loving hand over first Morgan’s hair, and then Peter’s. The last thing she does before leaving is to tell Friday that it’s ‘story time,’ which apparently is the cue for the lights to dim and for the Tony AI to take over. 

Peter closes his eyes and reaches out with his senses, but nothing changes until a disembodied voice speaks with Tony Stark’s voice. “ **Good evening, Maguna,** ” he says. “ **I see we have some company tonight.** ”

“Hi, Daddy,” Morgan says, sounding sleepy, though excited. “Peter’s here! Finally!” 

“ **I see that. Hey, Pete.** ” 

“Hey, Tony.” Peter speaks softly, finding it difficult to spit out the words. 

“ **So what will it be tonight, kiddos? Got a certain story in mind? Or do you want me to pick?** ”

Morgan looks questioningly at Peter, who simply shrugs. So she takes charge and says, “I want _my_ story, Daddy.”

“ **Right-o, Shortcake. _Maguna the Mermaid_ it is. Are we all snug as a bunch of bugs in rugs?**”

Morgan answers in the affirmative, and then yawns and rubs her eyes sleepily – wiggling down further under the covers. So Peter closes his eyes as well – allowing the AI’s voice to wash over him while he tries to imagine that Tony’s actually there with them. 

“ **’Underneath the waves of the great Arabian Sea, lived the smartest, bravest mermaid that there could ever be…’** ”

The story goes on to tell the tale of a young mermaid named Maguna, who saves the day through acts of exceptional cunning and selfless courage. And by the time Tony reaches the end, Morgan’s eyes have fluttered shut, and she’s fast asleep with one small hand clutched loosely in the fabric of Peter’s shirt. 

“ **‘… As Maguna laid her head to rest, she looked back on her day; Proud that she had helped her friends, and found a better way. The End.’** ”

There’s a long enough period of silence when the story’s over that Peter thinks Tony won’t say anything else. But just as he extracts himself from the bottom bunk and stands up to head back down to his own room, Tony says, “ **Morgan’s asleep, but is there anything else that you want to hear, Peter?** ”

And God, there is _so much_ that Peter wants to hear from Tony. But not here, and not like this. So he wipes an errant tear from the corner of his eye and says, “No. But thank you for the story.”

To which Tony responds, “ **Anytime, kid. Sleep well.** ” 

Then the lights turn off almost completely – every one except a thin blue glow, like that of the arc reactor, that runs the perimeter of the room, down by the baseboard. And Peter knows that Tony is gone, replaced once more by Friday if anyone should need her.

Peter leaves, and runs into Pepper on his way back to the elevator. She’s sitting in an armchair with a blanket on her lap, reading a book and sipping from a mug. “Morgan’s asleep?” she asks. 

“Yeah, she is.” He tries not to look directly at her – not wanting her to see how red and glassy his eyes are. But there’s one thing that’s been nagging at him, and he feels like he has to know… “Do you mind if I ask… What’s the other thing that you let Morgan use the AI for?”

She sets the mug down and marks her page with a finger before answering. “Sometimes she has nightmares.” _Don’t we all,_ Peter wants to say. “Tony’s voice is the only thing that seems to calm her back down enough to sleep.” 

“Oh. Um, thanks.” He continues on his way, but Pepper speaks again, stopping him. 

“Peter, if you need to talk—”

“No,” he says, cutting her off. “Thank you… but no. I’m alright.” He tries to smile, but he knows it’s not very convincing. 

“Alright,” she agrees. “Well, goodnight, Peter. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. Yes. See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Pepper. And thanks… for everything.” 

She smiles and opens her book up again. And Peter finally makes his way back down to his own room. 

It’s lonely there all by himself. So unexpectedly lonely. But he turns off the lights and gets into bed anyway. And it’s there where he lets the tears finally fall freely as he cries himself to sleep.

***

“We won, Mr. Stark. We won…” Peter sees the life slowly draining from those once fiercely bright eyes – sees the flame flicker feebly as the words just won’t come. The man who never could hold his tongue is rendered mute for the first time in his life… for the last time. “ _Tony…_ ”

Someone pulls him away gently, and then Peter can’t see him at all. There’s nothing there but tears and pain – heart-wrenching agony and sobs that wrack his body like he’s being electrocuted. He thought he knew the meaning of despair… But he had no idea.

 

“Don’t go! Please, _please_ don’t go!” Peter begs, feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces while he struggles to breathe. “Don’t leave me!” 

“ **Peter… Peter, wake up.** ” 

Peter sits up and opens his eyes, squinting in the darkness. “What? What’s happening?” Peter looks around, trying to remember where he is and why he’s crying. 

“ **You were having a nightmare, Peter.** ” 

Friday. That’s Friday’s voice, and Peter is in his bedroom at the Tower – he remembers now. It doesn’t help to quiet his gasping sobs, but it does stop him from activating the Iron Spider suit to fight the threat. There is no threat… not anymore. The threat is long past, and Peter had failed to beat it – had failed to save him.

“ **Shall I contact someone to come help you?** ” Friday asks. 

Help him? Who could possibly help him? 

The Tony AI comes to mind first. He could do it. He could activate it and have Tony’s voice console him. He could order it to pretend like everything is ok – to tell Peter whatever he needs to hear to calm him down enough to go back to sleep. Just like Morgan does when she has nightmares, he thinks. 

He almost does it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but what comes out instead is, “Wade. Friday, call Wade… Wade Wilson.” 

He hears the line ring three times before the call connects. “ _Hey there, good lookin’._ ” Wade says. “ _Whatcha got cookin’?_ ”

“Wade…” Peter’s voice comes out choked, and he whimpers – not able to help the continued sobs. 

“ _Peter?! What’s wrong? Where are you?_ ” There’s a lot of background noise at first, but then he hears Wade scream for everyone to shut up while holding his hand over the mic, most likely. And they comply without delay – even the loud music cuts off in an instant. “ _Talk to me, Baby. What’s happening?_ ”

“Wade… I need you.” 

“ _I’m there. Just tell me where you are. Are you hurt?_ ”

Peter tells Wade where he is, and manages to convince him that he’s not hurt, and not in danger of being hurt, just that he needs to see him as soon as possible. And then he hangs up and makes his way back down to the lobby to wait, since Wade wouldn’t be able to get in on his own. 

Surprisingly, there are no actual guards on duty in the lobby in the middle of the night, and when asked, Friday tells him that Happy doesn’t trust human guards not to be corruptible, and thus relies on Tony’s superior tech to guard the Tower and its inhabitants while they sleep. 

And that works out just fine for Peter’s liking, because apparently Tony has granted Peter a clearance level as high as Happy himself, and there are no questions asked, and no alarms raised when he opens the door to finally let Wade in – Deadpool suit and full arsenal notwithstanding. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, Peter buries his face in Wade’s chest and holds onto him for dear life – and the warmth of his body and the rumble of his voice under Peter’s ear instantly makes him feel calmer. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright, Baby Boy. Whatever it is, I promise I’ll make it better.”

“Will you just… will you just hold me?” Peter asks between hiccupping sobs. 

“Until the end of time, if you want me to,” Wade responds, hugging him tight. “But do you want to go somewhere a little more comfortable?” he asks. “We can leave here and go back to my place, if you’d like. Just say the word.” 

It’s tempting. But Peter has his own private bedroom just an elevator ride away, so he leads Wade up – the larger man holding him close the whole way. And when they finally reach it, they pause only long enough for Peter to urge Wade out of his suit before climbing into bed and underneath the covers.

Peter continues to cry for a little while, and Wade continues to pet him and whisper sweet nothings. And only when he’s completely cried out, and the image of Tony’s lifeless body is no longer the only thing that he sees when he closes his eyes, does Peter sleep once more – completely drained and emotionally exhausted, and so deeply wrung out that he’s unable to dream anymore this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering (or if you don't remember), in End Game, Tony calls Morgan 'Maguna,' but it isn't really explained why, as far as I could find out. So I've decided that Morgan loves to swim, and the story about the Mermaid is my own explanation for the nickname. 
> 
> I Hope you like it. :)


	8. Surprise?

If Wade were to write an autobiography, it would have to be titled, _Be Careful What You Wish For…_ And it would be a cautionary tale of a man who got everything he ever wanted… and then lost it all in a variety of horrible, soul-crushing ways. 

And for that reason, it’s hard to stare down into Peter’s absolutely breathtaking face, smiling serenely up at him as the late-morning sunshine halos his mussed up curls with a bright golden light. 

It’s hard because this is something that he finds himself wanting more than anything else he’s ever wanted before. And now that he has it, there’s a very loud, very annoying voice in his head telling him that it won’t last. That it can’t last, and oh! here’s an endless list of ways in which it will end – with every possibility getting progressively more gruesome and terrible than the last. 

“Hey,” Peter croaks sleepily from where he’s half lying on top of Wade’s naked chest. His eyes are still a little swollen and red from crying, but Wade thinks he’s perfect anyway – even if the tears that caused his eyes to look like that were cried over another man. 

_At least it’s unlikely that Tony Stark will come back from the dead,_ Wade tells himself. Now don't get him wrong, if he _could_ bring Tony Stark back, he would - if only to make Peter happy. But a selfish part of him can't help but be relieved that Cable took his Hogwarts Time Turner back home with him, and there's actually nothing Wade can do. 

“Hey, yourself,” he says, forcefully pushing away the more disturbing thoughts so that he can focus on what really matters… Peter. “How are you feeling?”

Peter yawns like the most adorable baby sloth, and then stretches his lithe body from fingertips to toes in a sinuous glide that frankly ought to be illegal. Because while Wade may be Super, when it comes right down to it, he’s still just a red-blooded Canadian male. And if Peter doesn’t stop looking so delectable, Wade just might have to eat him right up. _Mmm… With butter and maple syrup…_

“Good,” Peter says eventually. But he’s still moving his body around sort of like a cat does when it’s trying to spread its scent all over something – and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. 

“How good are we talkin’ here?” Wade asks, as he grips Peter under the armpits and slides his tight little body further up Wade’s chest. In lieu of actual words, Peter finds Wade’s lips with a hungry kiss that’s so good, Wade almost doesn’t even notice the wandering hand that Peter sneakily slips under the waistband of his underwear. 

The hand on his cock is sort of hard to miss though. 

Wade groans through the kiss, and Peter continues to stroke him for a while longer. But eventually he starts sucking a line of kisses all the way down Wade’s body – not even hesitating before he bares Wade completely and leans down to lick him from root to tip. 

“That’s pretty darn good,” Wade comments, answering his own question. “You sure you’re up for that though?” His dick will never forgive him if Peter stops now. But Wade would never forgive himself if he didn’t make sure. 

“Completely sure,” Peter responds. “I’ve been dreaming about this.” He leans down again and gets a hand back around Wade – kitten-licking the wetness pearling at his slit. 

“I didn’t know you were a romantic like that,” Wade says, voice strained. It’s sweet, really, all things considered. 

But Peter’s warm brown eyes burn even darker when he looks up at Wade and very earnestly says, “No, I mean I was _just_ dreaming about it… when I was sleeping,” and then goes right back to it – swallowing him down like the pro that Wade knows very well he is not. 

You sure as shit could have fooled him though – because while Peter seems to know his limits very well, he makes up for the lack of depth with some pretty impressive manual dexterity… and a level of suction that would put any Hoover to shame. 

“You know, I had you pegged as a Rose, for sure, Baby Boy. But now I see that you’re more of a Blanche, aren’t you, you little strumpet, you- _oh yeah… just like that_.” 

Peter makes the most sinful slurping noise as he pulls off – panting a bit when he responds, “Why would you need to peg me?” And Wade is trying to figure out how to answer that awkward question when Peter smirks and winks and says, “And I like to think I’m more of a Sophia anyway,” because apparently Spiderman is a smartass who also knows the Golden Girls, and Wade thinks it’s possible that he just might be in love.

“All right, Mrs. Petrillo… that’s enough out of you.” Peter laughs as Wade flips their positions – a clear, joyous sound that’s actual music to the merc’s ears. Wade tries to commit the sound to memory, even while he fervently hopes that it’s unnecessary; that he’ll get to hear it many, many more times instead. 

Then, once Wade has Peter stripped out of those distracting Iron Man pajamas, the laughs turn to moans, and Wade tries to decide which sound he likes more as he works Peter into a mess of quivering muscles and incoherency. “Wade... _Yes!_ Oh my… Oh, wow! That’s… It’s… It’s _so…_ ” Wade stops to stick his thumb in his mouth – just long enough to get it thoroughly wet – before he brings it down and rubs firmly against Peter’s tightly furled hole. 

And yep, that does it. Peter comes with a shout, and Wade swallows it down greedily – not even remotely concerned that his own dick is still hard enough to cut glass. 

Instead, he focuses his attention on caressing the smooth expanse of Peter’s soft thighs to gentle him while he recovers his breath. “That was awesome,” Peter says dreamily. Then, with a little more pep, Peter grips Wade under the armpits and pulls him up – just like Wade had done to him. “Your turn,” he says with a grin.

“Damn, that’s hot,” is all Wade has time to say before he’s pushed over onto his back and Peter has his warm, wet mouth back around him again. Wade props himself up on his elbows to get a better view, and sort of wishes that he hadn’t – because Peter has his back arched and his ass in the air, and he’s bobbing his head in such a perfect rhythm that Wade knows he’s not going to last very long. 

Wade warns him and reaches down to nudge Peter’s head out of the way, but Peter just slaps his hand and doubles his efforts – adding a rumbling moan that vibrates to Wade’s very soul, and Wade is done for. 

Afterward, Peter crawls back up and settles on top of him, licking his lips and practically beaming. “How was that?” he asks, so obviously starved for praise that it sort of breaks Wade heart.

“How was that?” Wade parrots back. Peter nods hopefully. And any other time, with any other person, Wade would go for the joke – any joke to lighten the mood and keep things casual – But not this time, not with this person. So instead, Wade cups Peter’s cheek, kisses him deeply, and says, “Perfect, Baby Boy… It was all just… perfect.”

Peter blushes. Honest to God blushes and sighs and looks at Wade like he hung the fucking moon, before insisting on another kiss, which Wade happily gives him. And then they do what could only be referred to as ‘snuggling’ for a while. But eventually Peter gets restless and tells Wade that he’s going to take a shower, and would Wade like to join him?

He would. He really, really would. But instead he decides to go find the kitchen and retrieve something to feed his little spider – the kid’s still looking somewhat thin and pale. 

Though, he wants to make it a surprise, because Wade _is_ a romantic like that. And besides, Peter will be less inclined to skip another meal if Wade already has the food ready for him to eat.

It’s a near thing. The tantalizing sight of Peter wiggling his pert little ass on his way to the bathroom nearly changes Wade’s mind for him. But he holds out – because now Wade has a mission.

He dons the suit again – minus _most_ of his weapons – and slips silently out into the hall. It’s quiet, which isn’t really surprising. It’s likely that Peter has the whole floor to himself. 

Wade remembers seeing a glimpse of the kitchen when he arrived the night before, so he walks directly there, stopping on a dime at the new sight that greets him.

“I knew it!” he shouts, startling the two men who are attempting to swallow each other’s tongues up against the granite countertop. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do – seeing as how he’s alone, without Peter, and they obviously aren’t expecting company. “Woah, fellas,” Wade starts – seeing death advancing on him in the form of one James Buchanan Barnes. “Don’t let me interru—” 

Wade’s words are cut off when a vibranium arm closes around his throat and lifts him bodily into the air. 

Bucky says nothing – just stares menacingly at Wade while Captain America takes up a guard position and starts rattling off instructions. “Friday,” Steve begins. “Tell all on-sight Avengers to assemble here. And lock down the penthouse.”

“Wait, no!” Wade pleads, voice just barely audible as he struggles. “Peter’s still in the shower! Don’t bother him!” And that… that definitely wasn’t the right thing to say. Because Bucky lets him go just long enough to break Wade’s arm and slam a metal fist into his sternum. 

“Wade!” Peter leaps across the kitchen and rips Bucky away like he’s swatting a fly. And then he drops to Wade’s side where he’s fallen to the floor – breath short and arm throbbing. He’s wearing the special Spidey suit, minus the mask, and his hair is dripping water all over the place. 

Steve steps forward and tries to pull him back, but Peter just shrugs him off. “Peter, get away from that man,” Steve tell him. “He’s not safe. He’s a killer!” 

Peter glares, and then throws a pointed look at Bucky before he sarcastically says, “That’s rich.” 

Ooh, harsh. But Wade certainly isn’t going to complain when Peter puts all his attention on him instead – fussing over Wade like the world is ending. “Wade! Oh my God, your arm! Your _chest_ … Jesus, it’s crushed! Friday!” 

Peter’s voice and hands shake as he instructs the AI to send some people from the emergency medical wing of the Tower up to tend to Wade’s grievous injuries. 

The elevator dings, but it isn’t paramedics. It’s Colonel Rhodes and the Hulk – who come barreling into the room looking ready to start busting skulls, only to be met with a spunky little spider standing in their way. “Stop!” he commands them. “There’s no danger here!” he insists. Then he turns back around to fuss over Wade some more.

But by that time, Wade’s arm is mostly healed, and his lungs have expanded enough to be able to speak. So he stills Peter’s shaking hands with his own, and tries to get him to calm down. 

“It’s ok. Peter, I’m fine. Look… all better!” Wade moves his arm around to prove it. “We talked about this, remember? When we traded stories about our mutations?” 

“Friday?” Peter prompts, just to be sure, Wade supposes.

“ **Mr. Wilson is right, Peter. His advanced healing factor appears to be working quite rapidly. At the current rate of regeneration, he should be fully healed in one minute and fifteen seconds.**

Peter sags in relief, and then leans forward to rest his forehead against Wade’s – gentle hands cradling the sides of Wade’s masked face. “I was so scared,” Peter admits quietly. 

“I know. I’m sorry, Baby.” He’s trying to be consoling, but Peter has moved past worried, and looks to be starting right in on anger. 

“It’s not _you_ who should be sorry,” Peter spits, glaring at Bucky and Steve once more. “Why did you attack him?!”

Steve steps forward and shields Bucky from Peter’s ire. “Do you know who this man is, Peter? Do you know what he does?” 

“Do _you_?” Peter responds acidly.

Steve ignores the question, asking another one of his own instead – to Wade this time. “How did you get in here?” And Wade is about to answer when they’re all interrupted by the angry voice of a man who’s image is now being displayed by a holographic screen. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” the man says. He’s wearing a black suit, and Wade thinks he might recognize him as someone who may have hung around Tony Stark a lot. “Friday? How did Deadpool, of all people, get around your security protocols?!” 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Wade jokes, letting Peter help him to his feet.

“ **He is a guest of Mr. Parker,** ” Friday says. And for an artificial intelligence, she sure does sound annoyed. “ ** _He_ let Mr. Wilson into the building**.”

All eyes turn to Peter, who looks embarrassed by the scrutiny, but defiant nonetheless. “And when was that, Fri?” Mr. Black Suit asks suspiciously. Well, to be honest, this guy seems to say everything suspiciously. 

“ **At 11:57p.m. last night.** ” _How does she manage to make a simple answer like that sound judgey?_ Wade wonders.

The resulting silence is deafening though. That is, until the Hulk roars, startling exactly no one – except Wade, of course. And regardless of the fact that getting Hulk-Smashed is right at the top on Wade’s bucket list of ways to die, he doesn’t want to upset Peter even more than he already is, so he refrains from mentioning it. 

“Does your aunt know about this?!” Mr. Black Suit asks, sounding like he’s about to have a stroke. 

The elevator dings again, covering up Peter’s lack of an answer with the bustle of several people – most of whom are wearing white coats and pulling along an empty stretcher. 

Captain Buzzkill won’t let the subject drop though. “ _Does_ your aunt know about this, Peter?” Steve asks. And hey, he sounds even more judgey than Friday… maybe they should be friends!

“Does his aunt know about what?” And like a mob of meerkats, all heads turn as one to look at the tiny, bespectacled woman, with long brown hair, who’s standing with the group of medics, but obviously not one of them. 

“Aunt May!” Peter stands in front of Wade – shielding him like Steve had done for Bucky. It’s pointless, of course, because Wade towers over him. But Wade still appreciates the attempt. “What are you doing here?”

Aunt May zeros directly in on Wade’s masked face when she answers, “Pepper invited me to brunch. What _exactly_ is going on here?”

“Uh… nothing!” Peter lies. “There’s nothing going on here.” He rushes over to her and starts trying to guide her back to the elevator. “Well, Pepper is probably waiting for you. Stop by and say ‘hi’ on your way out!”

Wade has to laugh at Peter’s tendency toward bold-faced lies. Everyone else looks surprised that he’d even attempt it. But Wade likes the kid’s spunk. It shows how much confidence he has. There’s no way it will work, but Wade still has to admire his confidence. 

“Not so fast there, bud,” May says, stopping to turn and glance back to look at the assembled group before focusing on Peter again. “Explain.”

Wade can see the wheels turning in Peter’s head, and he wonders what sort of cockamamie story he’s going to come up with to explain away the situation. Surprisingly though, Peter eventually just sort of deflates and starts explaining exactly what’s going on… more or less. 

“… So that’s why the doctors are here – Oh, you guys can go. Sorry about the false alarm – and why Happy and Steve were asking if you _knew_ and—”

“Hold on,” she says, cutting Peter off. She then stalks over to Wade and tilts her head up. “Take off the mask,” she commands. 

_Shit._ Nothing under the mask is going to help Wade’s cause here. 

But he knows he has to do it. So he doesn’t hesitate much at all before removing the mask. There are several short, but audible intakes of breath throughout the room, but May isn’t one of them. Instead she just stands there staring into Wade’s eyes in a way that makes him feel like she can read his mind. 

“You’re staying for brunch,” she finally says. “I’m sure Pepper won’t mind.”

“Don’t mind at all,” a new voice says from over Mr. Black Suit – er, Happy’s – shoulder on the screen. 

“Good!” May comments enthusiastically. Then she walks back over and grabs Peter by the elbow as she keeps walking – toward his bedroom. “Just going to have a quick word with my nephew before we do.” 

Peter looks panicked, and Wade doesn’t blame him. He’d rather face off with this band of angry-looking superheroes than walk off alone with that tiny terror any day. 

“So,” Wade says, once they’re gone. “Who's making the mimosas?”


	9. Brunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? Sort of? 
> 
> Fyi, I'm being pretty fast and lose with canonical knowledge here, so bear with me. 
> 
> Oh, and I'm also completely making shit up out of whole cloth, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> *Crosses fingers and hopes for the best*

“How long?” May asks, once the bedroom door closes behind them. “How long have the two of you been…” She struggles to find a suitable euphemism, finally settling on, “… seeing each other?” 

“Well, we’re not really—”

“Cut the crap, Peter. How long?” She’s upset, but Peter can tell that she’s trying not to show just how upset she really is, because she knows how that affects him. 

“A few days…” She visibly deflates, obviously expecting worse. Then something seems to occur to her. 

“And before that? How long have you known him? Is he an Avenger too? I don’t remember ever hearing his name before.” 

Lie? Or tell the truth? It’s the same question he has had to ask himself every time his aunt has questioned him in the last couple of years. The instinct to lie is ingrained by now, but the panic of this unprecedented situation is making it hard to come up with anything, so he goes with the truth and hopes for the best. 

“No… no, he isn’t an Avenger… exactly. He’s more of a free-lancer.” May’s skeptical expression doesn’t change. “We met recently,” Peter goes on. “He helped me out when I was on patrol one night.” 

“How recently?” Damn it. Peter thought he might have been able to slip that one past her. 

“A few days ago,” he says, staring at his feet while he says it.

May sighs and buries her face in her hands for the space of several heartbeats before looking up at Peter again. “Is he the only one?”

“The only one what?” Peter asks, confused.

“The only one that you’re ‘seeing’?” The air quotes aren’t physical, but they are heavily implied.

“Yeah. Yes. He’s the only… the only one,” he finishes awkwardly. 

“And are you planning on seeing him again?”

“Hopefully…?” He really wishes that hadn’t come out like a question.

“Did he pressure you?” she asks, suddenly even more serious. Then, almost as an aside, “Jesus, I spent so much time teaching _you_ not to be a creep, and I never even thought to teach you how to deal with creeps. Did he force you?”

“No! God, no, May. Nothing like that.” She doesn’t seem completely convinced. “He’s never even made my Spidey sense tingle.” He’s made other things tingle, sure, but never that. “Besides,” he adds. “I’m Spiderman. I know how to deal with creeps.” 

Peter smiles, hoping to reassure her, but she doesn’t say anything for a while. Eventually though, she sighs and says, “Since I know that you’re going to do whatever you want to anyway, I’m not going to tell you not to see him.” Peter breathes a sigh of relief, though it doesn’t last long. “I just hope that you’re not trying to use Wade as a replacement. It never works out, and it’s not fair to him.” 

“A replacement for what?” Peter asks, doing his best to play dumb. 

“Oh, Peter…” She cups his cheek. “I know that you loved him.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden pain that her words cause. “And I know that you miss him.” His hands start to shake and she steps forward to grasp them, holding them steady. 

“And I’m not even surprised that this is happening, really. Honestly, I was betting even money between it happening with Dr. Banner or that Broody fella with the metal arm.” Her joke that isn’t really a joke startles a laugh out of Peter, and May smiles back at him, happy that she could lighten the mood, even as she adds, “But none of them are _him_ , Peter. And they never will be. So just keep that in mind before you go and make someone fall in love with you.”

Peter blushes and wipes a stray tear away from the corner of his eye. He’s not even sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. “Ok,” he says, not sure how else to respond to a statement like that. “But anyway, I’m pretty sure that Dr. Banner is straight. And I’m also pretty sure that Bucky has something going on with Steve.”

“Really?!” she exclaims. “Captain America?” Peter nods and shrugs, and her eyebrows hit her hairline, but then she says. “Yeah, I can see that. Now put some clothes on. I’m hungry.” She starts walking toward the door. “And Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I expect you home in queens tonight. We’ve got a whole new safe sex talk to have; with added ‘how to deal with creeps’ lecture included!” 

Peter sighs in defeat and scowls after her. Those are definitely not things that he’s looking forward to. 

***

Brunch is… a hot mess. There really isn’t any other way for Peter to describe it.

It starts out sort of promising – with everyone trying to be extra polite in deference to May and Pepper. And Morgan is having lunch in her own room because she felt that all of her Avenger-themed plushies just _had to_ have an impromptu tea party. So that takes off some of the extra pressure that her presence would have unfortunately caused. 

Also, they’re down one more Avenger because Sam is off on a coffee date with someone he met at his new veteran’s group. So yeah, Peter has high hopes.

But all it takes for the group to collectively lose their cool is for Peter to pass Wade the butter dish. Because that causes Wade to say, “Thank you, Baby,” while he pulls Peter in to kiss him on the cheek. 

The action makes Peter smile and feel warm inside, but then a couple of pairs of silverware clatter down on the fancy, modern plates, and several perturbed, male voices start talking over each other. 

Luckily for Peter, they’re all almost immediately interrupted by little Morgan – who’s appearance stems the flow of vitriol, at least temporarily. 

She walks up to lean against Peter, then turns and stares up at Wade’s mostly masked face with a calculating look. “Hello,” she says simply. 

“Well, hello to you too!” Wade responds, setting down his fork and turning to look down at the miniature Stark. 

“Are you a superhero?” she asks skeptically. “Because I don’t recognize you.” 

“Well… no, not exactly,” Wade responds.

“Then who are you?” Morgan counters.

“I’m Wade. I’m a friend of Peter’s.”

Her eyes light up, and her face loses all traces of doubt. “Me too!” she assures him. “I’m Peter’s friend too!” Then she grabs his gloved hand and attempts to pull Wade away. “Do you want to see my room?!”

Every single person at the table stands… except for Wade. But it’s Pepper that walks over and ushers her daughter away from the table and back toward her room, saying, “Maybe some other time, Sweetie.” 

And then May asks Morgan if she can see her room instead, so it’s just the men left at the table and Peter knows he’s in for an unpleasant experience.

There are comments like, “He’s more than twice your age, Peter.”

And, “He murders people for money, Peter.”

And less blunt, but still annoying, comments like, “Are you sure this is the best thing for you right now, Peter?” 

And mostly Peter just sits there and takes it, figuring it’s best to just let them have their say and then ignore their advice. 

But there’s one comment that he just can’t let pass. A lull in the abuse gives Steve the opportunity to quietly ask, “Do you really think that Tony would approve of this decision, Peter?”

And Steve knows how much losing Tony has affected Peter. They _all_ know, to one degree or another, Peter is aware. So for Steve to use Tony’s memory to shame him into feeling bad about his life choices is a low blow – even if he does believe that his intentions are noble. 

“I am _positive_ that Tony trusted my judgement,” Peter says confidently. 

“Is that so, kid?” Steve asks. 

And it’s not the obvious skepticism on the man’s face that really gets to Peter; or even the confrontational posture Steve has adopted with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his feet planted shoulder width apart. No. It’s that word… “Kid.” The one and only word in the history of language that affects Peter like absolutely nothing else. 

So without thinking about the repercussions, Peter pulls the Starkphone with the Tony A.I. on it out of his pocket, places it on the table, and says, “He trusted me enough to give me this,” before using the touch screen to project the AI’s stats onto a holographic screen for all to see. “Say ‘hello’ to everyone, Tony,” he adds, once they’ve had sufficient time to understand what they’re looking at.

“ **How’s it hangin,’ fellas?** ” _That’s close enough, I guess,_ Peter thinks. 

There are shocked faces all around – even Wade looks distinctly uncomfortable – and everyone is speechless at first. But soon enough, Bruce starts asking ‘Tony’ if he has any information that Friday doesn’t – especially anything pertaining to something called ‘Pym particles.’ 

“ **No, sorry, buddy. Never did figure out a way to manufacture them. The ones that Steve used to take the stones back to the past were the last of them. Looks like you won’t be able to add ‘time-traveling’ to your list of hobbies, Cap.** "

“Time travel?!” Peter exclaims. No one ever told him anything about any time travel. 

What they _had_ told him when Peter had asked them why they couldn’t just use the soul stone themselves to bring Tony back, was that the stones had been destroyed when Tony had used them. And at the time, Peter hadn’t been in any state of mind to be able question them further. 

“You know how to time travel?!” How could they keep something like this from him? Why wouldn’t they use it to go back and right wrongs? What the hell?

“Yes,” Steve says simply. 

But Bruce adds, “We know how, but we can’t do it anymore because it requires a substance that we’ve run out of and can’t figure out how to make more of.” 

“And besides,” Bucky, of all people, adds. “Apparently time travel doesn’t work like in all the stories.” Peter is pleasantly surprised that he’s able to pick up Bucky’s Brooklyn accent. And he wonders if that’s any indication that the man is any more back to how he used to be all those many, many years ago. “If someone were to go back to save To—” Bruce elbows him and the super soldier sways on his feet. 

“Er… anyone… to save anyone…” He gives Bruce a dark look. “… then it would create like, a different time line. But that person you were trying to save in _this_ timeline would still be dead.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably and looks at the ground while he adds, “I already asked about it.”

And Peter isn’t surprised at all that Bucky would be interested in changing things in his past. Peter can totally relate. 

“But why did you lie to me?” he asks. “And why didn’t anyone use the soul stone when you had the chance? You could have brought him back!” Peter doesn’t specify who he’s talking about. Then again, he doesn’t really have to. “And now you’re saying that they’re gone?”

Again it’s Steve who says, “Yes. They’re gone.” 

Peter feels hot tears of rage and despair fill his eyes as he stares at the ceiling and paces restlessly back and forth. “Why didn’t you try?!” 

“Peter,” Bruce sighs. “It was more complicated than that.” 

“Well, then please uncomplicate it for me,” Peter demands. Wade sidles up to him and starts gently rubbing his back soothingly, but he’s silent for the time-being. So Bruce begins…

“Before Tony even died, Thor had explained to us that the only reason I was able to bring you and everyone else back was because _you all_ died as a direct result of the stones’ power. Apparently, when that happens, a person’s soul gets, well, downloaded – for lack of a better term – _into_ the stone and stored there. 

“But Tony actually died from a fatal amount of gamma radiation, which was a _side effect_ of using the stones. So when Tony died, his soul went somewhere else –” 

“Where did he go?” Peter butts in to ask. 

“Well, Thor would probably say, ‘Valhalla,’ but honestly we don’t really know for sure,” Bruce informs him before getting back on track. “But anyway, according to legend, even though the stone _can_ bring people like that back, to use it in that way requires a sacrifice of one’s own soul in exchange.”

“And Tony wouldn’t have wanted anyone to die for him, Peter,” Rhodey adds gently. “You know that.” 

Peter does know that. But even so… “I would have done it,” Peter says, voice choked. “If I had known… if you had _told_ me… I would have done it.”

“We know,” Happy says, like nothing has ever been more obvious. “And that’s exactly why they didn’t tell you.” 

“It was my call,” Rhodey says, surprising Peter. “There was nothing you could have done, and with everything else, I just didn’t think you needed another thing to beat yourself up over.”

Peter drops his head and wipes his eyes, sniffling. “You didn’t even give me a choice,” he says sadly.

“You’re damn right you didn’t get a choice,” Happy says harshly. “Because there never _was_ a choice. It was never an option, because Tony would have _never_ forgiven us if we let you even think about doing that, kid.” 

That word again!

“I wish everyone would stop calling me that! And I’m not a child!” Peter shouts. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. And if I want to sacrifice myself, or… or…” he turns and points to Wade. “Or have sex with him…” 

“Oh God,” Wade says under his breath, as the murderous glares around the table increase. “Too far, Petey. I think you went too far.”

“…Then that’s _my_ choice. It’s my life… Only _I_ can live it!” Peter stands there glaring while he tries to catch his breath from his tirade. And luckily for him, either no one has anything to respond, or at least none of them are able to find their words before Peter recovers enough to say, “Tell my aunt that I’ll see her later. And please tell Pepper thank you for brunch…” 

That’s Peter: Polite as always – regardless of the situation.

“… but I really think Wade and I should go now,” he continues, grabbing Wade’s hand and starting for the exit. They make a detour toward Peter’s bedroom when Wade reminds him that all his weapons are there. 

On the way back Peter adds, “And if Morgan asks, tell her that I just needed a little time away from here." Then to make a point... “At least it’ll be the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez... another damn thing for Peter to be upset about. Probably should get around to adding that 'emotional hurt/comfort' tag finally. 
> 
> And I _swear_ that that wasn't my primary goal in this chapter, even if it may seem that way.


	10. I Think I Know Your Sickness, Baby, Let Me Be the Cure

Not too long after the end of the world’s most awkward brunch, Wade finds himself on some random rooftop that reminds him a whole heck of a lot like that rooftop in Queens where he’d first met Peter. It’s daylight this time around, but the giant mural of Tony Stark is agonizingly similar; as is the figure of Peter, clad in his spandex Spidey suit directly in front of him.  
Wade’s not exactly sure why Peter chose to wear this suit instead of the one that goes on and off like magic, but he suspects it has something to do with the kid’s state of mind perhaps. Because his current appearance of irate, overwhelmed, confusion and despair appears similar to how Peter had acted that first night as well. 

For several minutes, Wade unobtrusively watches while Peter paces restlessly back and forth near the ledge – his gloved hands clenching and unclenching in a way that Wade can tell means he wants to hit something.

“How could they... Why would he just… None of this is… It just isn’t _fair!_ ” Peter finally shouts, stamping his foot like a petulant child. Of course, Peter is stronger than a thousand toddlers, so a small crack forms in the concrete where he stamps. 

It’s mostly frustrated anger that he’s showing right now, but Wade can tell that the young man’s mood is about to take a nose-dive, so he tries to quickly think up a way to avoid that happening.

“Hey!” Wade says enthusiastically, getting right up in Peter’s bubble of personal space. “Punch me in the face!”

They both have their masks on, so it’s difficult to tell exactly what Peter is thinking when his head snaps up to focus on Wade. “What?!” he exclaims, voice squeaky and incredulous. 

“Come on!” Wade coaxes. He tips his head slightly and points at a spot on his own jaw. “Right here. It will make you feel better.”

Because Wade knows better than anyone how to cope with grief through the use of rage-fueled violence! 

“No it won’t!” Peter disagrees vehemently. But the anger is still there, and Spidey has started bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating out of his suit with poorly concealed emotion.

“Sure it will, snookums!” Wade boops Spidey on the nose, trying to provoke a response. But Spidey simply slaps his hand away and doesn’t retaliate any further. 

“Hurting someone that I care about isn’t going to make me feel better, Wade.” 

The casual admission of deeper feelings almost makes Wade relent. Peter _cares_ about him! But seeing the angel-faced boy tearful and heartbroken feels worse than any torture Wade has ever experienced, so instead he just keeps on keepin’ on.

“Hurt me?! You can’t hurt me, Spidey-babe! I’m immortal, remember?!” Wade starts poking at various points on Peter’s body – a light shove to his shoulder, a tickling jab to his ribs. Nothing that would even come close to injuring him, but is still very annoying regardless.

“Look, Wade… I don’t—”

Wade cuts off whatever Peter was going to say by sweeping his leg and pushing firmly at his chest. He would have caused Peter to land right on his perfect ass, but his reflexes are too fast. So before Wade knows it, there’s a web shooting past his head to land on something behind him, and Peter has pulled himself back up, knocked Wade backwards to the ground, and is straddling his hips and pinning Wade’s wrists to the surface of the roof. 

“That’s it, champ,” Wade says, low and a little breathlessly while looking up into the narrowed eyes of Spidey’s mask. “I knew you had it in you.”

After that, the gloves are off… metaphorically speaking. 

Wade bucks up and throws Peter off – reversing their positions so that it’s Peter’s nimble form lying below Wade’s own impressive bulk. 

It’s then that Wade spares a moment to remind himself that he’s supposed to be helping Peter right now. But his blood is running hot in his veins, and the thrill of the fight is getting him worked up like nothing else ever does. 

Add that to the fact that it’s _Spidey_ that he’s fighting and Wade knows exactly how this is going to go… if it plays out just like all of his fantasies, that is.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Wade purrs. “Get mad. Put me in my place.”

Peter’s frustrated grunt sounds more like a growl, and then Wade finds himself flying through the air to land roughly on his side, skidding to a halt ten feet away from where Spidey stands. 

“You know,” Wade begins, circumspectly, “If we were in a movie right now, I bet ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ would be playing in the background.” 

Spidey’s crouches slightly as he prepares to launch himself at Wade once more. “No, it would be ‘Cherry Bomb,’” he snarks back.

Wade laughs boisterously while he rolls to his back, raises his hands backwards up above his head, and pushes himself to his feet in a self-indulgent show of strength that he hopes gets Peter at least a little hot under the collar. “You’re probably right,” he says, cracking his neck and his knuckles while shifting from foot to foot. “Now, then… is that all you’ve got, sugar plum?” Wade makes a ‘come hither’ gesture and blows a kiss, and he can feel his adrenaline rising with every hurried step that Peter takes towards him.

They continue to trade attacks, but honestly it’s nothing more than sparring. Neither of them are using their full strength, punches are always pulled, and Wade would never even consider drawing a weapon. But the longer they’re at it, the more obvious it is that this is no longer just a sparring session. Oh no. This is _actually_ a competition to see who can get more handsy while still doing their level best to show off their own personal technique. 

And even though Wade can tell that it’s not making Peter feel completely better about the upsetting truths that he has learned today, Wade at least knows that it’s a good distraction – especially if the loosened posture and growing hard-on visible through Spidey’s skin-tight suit are anything to go by.

A shiver of anticipation makes Wade’s shoulders do a little shimmy, and he unthinkingly reaches a hand down to adjust his own little problem.

Well… not _little_. It’s not a _little_ problem, thank you very much. It’s a quite respectably sized problem, if you ask Wade.

Either way, Spidey seems to notice Wade’s problem, because he pauses in his advance and bounces on his feet while he takes time to consider his next move. Wade’s positive that he won’t retreat, and after a few moments with his head tilted in thought, Peter continues his advance and tackles Wade about the waist.

Wade grunts, spinning them around before attempting to fling Spidey away from him. Attempting, that is, because it fails spectacularly when the hands gripping him around his midsection stay attached – stuck like glue – causing Wade to go sailing through the air right along with him. 

By instinct, Wade cages Peter in with his arms and legs so that when they hit the ground, it’s Wade who takes the brunt of the force. Which probably isn’t even necessary, he realizes through a grunt of pain when he feels his shoulder dislocate, because Peter’s ability to take a hit of that level of force most likely outweighs Wade’s ability to heal from one. 

Spidey lets go when they land, and uses his superior strength to break Wade’s hold on him – propelling himself to go tumbling further away before landing in a defensive crouch facing Wade. 

Wade lumbers to his feet, wheezing a bit while he pops his shoulder back into proper placement. “Ok, I think I may have brought that one upon myself,” he says, chuckling slightly through panting breaths. 

Spidey pops back up like a jack-in-the-box, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. “Oh?” he asks, cocking his head. “I’m sorry, sir… are you suffering from osteoporosis? Should we get you a Life Alert button?” 

“Why you little…” Without waiting for the pain in his shoulder to disappear, Wade charges – spurred on by Peter’s cheap shots. And miracle of miracles, somehow Wade gets the drop on him, slamming into Spidey before he can evade Wade’s capture. “Come here, you sassy little rascal. Daddy thinks you need a spanking.” 

Peter makes the most delightful squeaking sound at Wade’s words, but markedly does not try to escape Wade’s hold. Euphorically encouraged by this state of affairs, Wade tightens his grip on Spidey’s blue-suited thighs where he’s slung over Wade’s broad shoulder before he maneuvers their altercation over to the only point on the rooftop that isn’t visible from the surrounding buildings. 

The early summer sun is shining, the discordant sounds of city noises sounds like music to Wade’s ears, and yes, maybe, _just_ maybe, Wade gives into temptation and gives Peter’s pert bottom a light slap or two along the way. He’s rewarded for it with another one of those squeaks though, and Wade smiles behind his mask. 

Once at the designated spot, Wade manages (by the grace of Bernadette Peters, and Spidey’s intentionally slackened effort) to hoist the web-slinger up against the brick wall, where Peter immediately wraps his perfectly toned legs around Wade’s waist. 

It immediately becomes clear that Wade’s utility belt must be the first thing to go, so he holds all of Peter’s not-insignificant weight with one arm around his waist while he reaches down and unlatches the buckle one-handed.

It falls to the ground with a clatter, and Wade practically rips his own mask off before throwing it down to join his belt. “Come on… lift your mask, Pete.” Wade coaxes, realizing belatedly that he’s slightly shaking – they both are. From the exertion, or merely the palpable lust, Wade isn’t sure, and doesn’t care. “You’re so hot… so strong… so fucking beautiful, baby. I just can’t wait to—”

Wade’s words and Peter’s moans are cut short when they hear the door to the roof bang open and several giggling feminine voices sound from that general vicinity. 

“Put me down!” Peter whispers frantically. 

Wade doesn’t want to. He’s so worked up from the fighting, and he has Peter _exactly_ where he wants him. And it’s becoming harder and harder to remember that shooting the intruders so that he and Peter can continue uninterrupted really isn’t acceptable behavior. 

So after a couple moments of serious contemplation, Wade lets Peter slide back down to stand on his feet before bending down himself to snatch up his equipment. Peter is still fully suited up. And once Wade is too, they hurry in the other direction, trying and failing to escape the girls unnoticed. 

“Look! Over there!” one of the girls shouts to her friends. There are a handful of them, and they’re probably about Peter’s age, but he doesn’t recognize any of them. “I told you I saw Spiderman!”

Wade sees at least two of the girls with cameras pointed their way, so he heads for the fire escape. But then he’s pulled to a stop and yanked back before Peter whispers, “Get on my back and hold on tight.” 

“Umm… yes, please!” Wade says, climbing on immediately.

It’s supremely awkward considering the size difference between them. But Wade wraps himself around Peter like a corn husk around a hot tamale, and in the next moment they’re plunging toward the ground at what would be an alarming rate… if it had been anyone other than Wade doing the falling.

To Wade, the fall (along with the soaring back up) is nothing less than completely exhilarating. He hoots and hollers and tries to commit every second to memory. And yet again, he secretly hopes that this won’t be the only time that they do this. Because _this_? 

“This is AMAZING!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. The mask protects his eyes and even ensures that he doesn’t get any bugs in his mouth, which makes it even better, much to Wade’s delight.

Eventually though, when Peter’s web-slinging begins to become slower and more leisurely, Wade makes more of an effort to try and ascertain their exact location, wondering what would be the best place to regroup. 

To his surprise, they’re only a couple of blocks away from somewhere very familiar and relatively safe, so he shouts an address for Karen to plot a course to, and enjoys the rest of his ride – A ride which ends in a dirty alleyway outside of a disreputable duplex. 

Wade unlocks a filthy window with a snick of a small, thin blade, and then stands aside. “Women and children first,” He quips, holding one arm out like he’s welcoming Peter to the fucking Plaza. 

“I _will_ punch you, Wade,” Peter threatens. “ _Again._ ”

Doesn’t stop Wade from goosing him as his back-half momentarily hangs out of the window. It _does_ earn him yet another adorable squeak though. 

Wade laughs, following him through the window and down onto the lumpy mattress below it with one agile leap. 

“Oof!” Peter gasps, his mask somehow conveying annoyed displeasure. 

Well, to be fair, Wade probably could have stuck the landing a little better. And Peter may not particularly enjoy how Wade lands on him with the full weight of his heavier body, but Wade makes the most of it.

“What’s your Sleep Number? Mine’s seventeen,” he says in that tone of voice only Wade seems capable of – an incongruous combination of carefree and seductive, which mostly just ends up annoying people. 

But not Peter… Instead, Peter usually takes it as an opportunity to practice his own snarky responses. 

This time is just another amusing example when Peter says, “My sleep number is one,” and then proceeds to push Wade off of him and onto the floor… directly onto his face.

“Ow.”

“Wade…?”

“Yes, pookie?”

“Why are there pictures of me taped to the ceiling?”

“Oh,” Wade says, voice muffled into the dusty floor. “That.” 

Wade rolls over and settles on his back with a grunt of effort, then sighs before falling silent. The silence stretches while Wade lets his mind wander through memories of nights spent lying on that bed, staring up at pictures of his favorite super hero.

“Wade…?”

“Hm…?” Wade tips his head back and sees Peter with his unmasked face hanging over the edge of the bed, glaring down at him. “Oh! Right! The pictures...” Wade stands up, and Peter swings his feet down to the floor, not yet leaving the bed. “I used to live here,” Wade continues. “My old roommate just couldn’t bear to move on – left the place practically a shrine.”

Peter just stares him down with a flat look until Wade adds, “She’s also very old, and very, _very_ blind, so that may have had something to do with it as well.”

Peter barks out an accidental laugh and ducks his head to hide his pink cheeks. He peeks back up with his eyes sparkling and the corner of his bottom lip caught between his teeth though, so any attempt at making Wade forget just how much he wants to get his hands inside that Spidey suit is decidedly unsuccessful. 

Reaching up to take off his own mask, Wade stalks towards the bed, encouraged by the way Peter leans back slowly in response, scooting up the mattress to recline fully.

_Finally…_

Except no, because when Wade goes to remove his thigh holster, the bedroom door swings open to reveal Wade’s fearless ex-roommate – wielding the small Colt she always keeps strapped to her ankle. 

Of course, she’s aiming the gun at an empty corner of the room when she says, “That you, Wade?” Which is all she manages to get out before Peter shoots a web and yanks the weapon out of her hands and into his own. He then immediately offers the gun up to Wade, who accepts it with a sigh – resigned to the fact that there’s obviously some unknown force bent on being the biggest cock-block Wade has ever known. 

“Yes, Althea,” Wade says. “It’s me.” He uncocks her gun and puts the safety back on before getting up to stride over to his friend. Wade leans down to peck her on the cheek and slips the gun back into her hand. 

“Who’s in here with you?” she asks. “I heard two voices.” 

Wade looks to Peter, who finally gets to his feet and walks forward to meet them with his mask clutched nervously in his hands. “Hello, ma’am. I’m uh… I’m Peter.” Peter’s shy blush is beautiful, and Wade hopes to see it more often. It’s such a big change from the spirited, confident persona that Peter portrays when wearing the mask. The dichotomy fascinates Wade, and he can already feel himself falling so much harder – Like when he jumped off that building that one time and landed splattered on the pavement. 

You know… _that_ kind of harder. 

Al’s lavender-clad shoulders relax as her arms drop to her sides and she says, “Oh, yes… Wade’s new _friend_.”

The way she says “friend,” makes Peter squint in adorable confusion. Wade doesn’t blame him, though – The emphasis could mean anything from derision to fondness. You often just can’t tell with Al. Got a great poker face, that woman. And also a great poker… voice. 

“That’s right,” Wade agrees. He snakes an arm around Peter’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. “This cool drink of gazpacho here is my new friend. My _sexy_ new friend.” 

Peter half-stifles a squeak when Wade’s hand sneaks down and pinches his ass, but Al doesn’t seem to notice, or to care if she does. 

Then a familiar voice sounds a split second before Domino sticks her head around the door frame and peeks in the room. “Peter’s here?” she asks, smile widening as her eyes lock onto the young hero’s unmasked face. “Oh, hey, little chick. Good to see you again.”

Peter opens his mouth, but only a high-pitched vowel sound seems able to force its way out before he closes it again and looks helplessly at Wade. Oh yeah, Wade remembers belatedly, Peter’s still attempting to hide his identity. It’s easily hidden from Al as she can’t see Peter’s suit, but Domino’s eyes work perfectly fine. 

And since Wade is starting to get the feeling that, like himself, when it rains, it fucking pours for this kid, two more familiar figures quickly crowd their way into the doorway to see what all the hub-bub is about.

Dopinder just looks confused, but Weasel, as usual, jumps to the wrong conclusion. (Though honestly, also as usual, Weas’s accusation isn’t, strictly speaking, completely unbelievable.)

“Being obsessed with Spiderman is one thing, Wade… This? This is… well, I don’t what this is. It’s some sort of roleplay or something, right?”

“That _does_ sound like something you would do,” Al interjects under her breath. 

“Shut it, old lady!” Wade says, fondly but also annoyed. 

“Wade!” Wade had been advancing on the small group, and Peter yanks him back by the arm to admonish him. “How can you talk to her like that?!” he asks incredulously. “Go apologize right now!” 

“Aww,” Domino says sweetly, cocking her head to the side. “This one’s got manners. How’d you get messed up with someone like Wade, Pete? Did you lose a bet?”

Dopinder, Weasel, and Al all add their own small comments on Wade and Peter’s relationship, or just Wade’s ability to be a gigantic pain in the ass. 

“Okay!” Wade shouts, waving his hands. “OKAY!! You’ve all made your point.” He glances back at Peter, but the boy is still glaring at him, so he rolls his eyes and walks over to Al, taking her hand. “Althea… you have my sincerest apologies. I’ve been unforgivably rude and hope you will forgive me.” 

Peter gives him a proud smile that turns into shocked confusion when Al responds by swatting Wade’s hands away and saying, “You didn’t take that Percocet again, did you?” 

“No,” Wade says, going back to stand next to Peter. “But maybe I should have. This conversation is giving me a headache. Putting aside for the moment why the hell _you’re_ all here in the first place… I’m going to let Peter tell you why the hell _we’re_ here.”

Wade figures it’s best to let Peter decide just how honest he wants to be right now. The roleplay cover story is embarrassing, but also safer for maintaining his secret identity. Either way, Domino has well since figured it out – Wade can already tell. But the others….

Peter looks to Wade for guidance, but this isn’t something that the merc can advise him on. He’s never been much for secrecy, after all. Instead he simply shrugs and tries to convey his approval for whatever decision Peter makes. 

Visibly fortifying himself, Peter slips the mask back on. And when it seals itself seamlessly with the rest of the suit, he says, “Actually…” and then shoots a web to the ceiling and hangs upside-down, facing them. “I _am_ Spiderman.” 

Domino smiles. 

Weasel stands there with his mouth open saying, “Uhhh….” 

Dopinder falls to the ground in a dead faint. 

And Al demands that someone tell her what’s happening.

And even though this day is turning out to be much more frustrating than Wade had hoped, at least when Peter pulls off his mask again (though he’s still dangling from the ceiling), his smile is brighter than Wade expects it to be – making Wade feel good for helping turn his frown upside-down. 

Now, if only he can manage to help keep it like that.


End file.
